


i could never rescue you

by antoniohiggins



Series: tumblr requests (newsies) [9]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Infection, M/M, Original Character(s), Protective Jack, Sick Character, What Have I Done, also an anon request from tumblr thank u, also it gets so angsty in chapter two, davey's rubbing off on him, he's a mama bird tbh, just warning you, ok it also gets even angstier in the epilogue, refuge fic whoops, there aren't any antibiotics in 1890 lads, this is mostly about jack & race's friendship but sprace happens at the end, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antoniohiggins/pseuds/antoniohiggins
Summary: i was asked for mother hen jack and angsty race so here you goau in which jack and race end up in the refuge and jack knows far too well how things work for new kids in therealso i waited just so this could be the 666th work in the sprace tag fuck yeah





	1. i could never rescue you

**Author's Note:**

> title from goodbye until tomorrow/i could never rescue you from the last 5 years
> 
> **warning for what could be interpreted as a panic attack, mild violence that isn't described very graphically, and also what could be interpreted as referenced past child m*lestation or sexual assault**

Hell is less of a place and more of a feeling. It’s the feeling you get when your hopelessness suddenly feels universal as if the things you hated about yourself, everyone around you hated too. It’s like the few good things in your life are falling apart and you’re inches away from saving them, but you always fall short. Hell is knowing things will never be the same and being forced to confront it every damn second.

So Jack Kelly was in hell. He was in hell because right outside the refuge, everything he built was crumbling to the ground and now he had no way of putting it back together.  
  
As his bruised and bloody face hit the harsh concrete floor in the refuge, he could hear Snyder laughing behind him as he bolted the door shut. He sat up to a crowded room full of children starring him down and he knew he was screwed. He had no idea what was happening outside and for all he knew, the strike was still going.

Well, at least they all still had each other. One quick scan around the room told him none of his boys were there and that brought him some strange sense of relief. At least they were safe at home. They could be beaten and bloody and he couldn’t fix that now, but _at least they were home safe_.

He tried not to scare the kids much younger than he was as he made his way over to the window he remembered so vividly and stared out at the now-barred view knowing this time, there was no way.

Time usually passed slowly in the refuge, but in times when he had no idea what was happening, anything could’ve gone wrong and it felt like everything was happening in a blur.

So the door opening again was not a welcomed sight. Yeah, Jack knew what that meant and he knew his only chance was to hide and hope that if Snyder had somehow only come to drop another kid off, that he wouldn’t take another one with him for ‘play time’.

And, like magic, he was right. He heard the horrible sounds of a kick to a young stomach as yet another body hit the ground hard. He winced but felt his nerves relax a little bit when the door creaked shut.

Everything was fine until he heard a weak and pained voice hiss, “ _F-fuck y-you.”_

That voice. He knew that voice. _He’d recognize that voice anywhere and if that was who he fucking knew it was then that meant there was no one to look after the house and if there was no one there then-_

“Race?”  
  
The boy whipped his head around, his curls flying wildly as he gripped his hat over his chest. His eyes were wide and terrified as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to the other.

“Oh thank fuck,” he mumbled, practically diving into the older boy as he hugged him tightly. “Jackie I’s so scared.”

Jack chuckled humorlessly, reciprocating the gesture as the two held tight.

“I know, kid. You’s gonna’ be okay, I’ll make sure of it,” Jack reassured him, burying his face in the crook of the other’s neck. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, Racer.”

But Race wasn’t having any of it.

“No way, it’s both a’ us or neither. I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you’s,” Race argued stubbornly, a slight tremor in his voice that Jack could tell clearly, but chalked it up to the initial stress and fear of what was happening. “They need you’s more than me, I ain’t lettin’ you do anythin’ stupid n’ self-sacrificing.”

Jack smiled a little as they separated, making sure to lead the boy off to the corner by the window just in case Snyder or any of his goons were to come back.

As much as he hated to admit it, the things Race was saying didn’t matter in the slightest. He messed up once and he would never let it happen again. Besides, he knew it was his fault the boy was even in there with him in the first place. For someone hat was constantly out in the city, especially after dark, Race was smarter and slicker than most. He never got caught and was honestly the last newsie in New York that Jack would’ve ever expected to see stuck in the refuge. It didn’t make sense, in all honesty. He was always so careful with everything he did and Jack legitimately thought the strike would be no different.

Yet, here he was.

“Racer, what the hell are ya’ doin’ here?” He spoke with a tired confusion as the two sat side by side against the wall.

Race said nothing but he shook his head, leaning back against the wall.

“I’s serious, Race. You’s always been so careful. I never met someone that could somehow find a way outta’ everythin’ like you do, but here ya’ are.”

Race sighed and stared over at the window. Jack swore he heard a sniffle.

“I couldn’t let ‘em take ‘im,” he mumbled, not meeting the other boy’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack, I jus’…I knew you was gone n’ I knew tha’ last thing you would want was for Crutchie to end up ‘ere, so’s I stepped in.”

Jack could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears. That…that made sense, but _Crutchie?_ No, they wouldn’t have gone after him. Would they? No. Unless…god, everyone knew that the way to get to Jack Kelly was by ruining him through others. Whenever the people he loved were in jeopardy, everything simpler. They always mattered more than he did. If there was ever an option, he would put every single one of his newsie boys before himself.

He took a glance at the boy to his left. The one who saved Jack's best friend and let himself get screwed over as a result. He was staring out the window like he had already given up and let tears tumble down his cheeks.

 _Yeah_ , he thought. _He definitely would._

“Okay, Racer. It’s okay, c’mere,” he mumbled, pulling the younger boy into his side as he slid an arm around his shoulder. “I know ya’ didn’t jus’ do it for me, but thank you so much. He’s…yeah, ya’ know what he is to me, but just…thank you.”

Race sniffled sadly, curling up to the other boy as he kept staring out the window.

Jack, despite how easy it was, he never thought he would be back in the refuge. When he started leading the Manhattan newsies, he felt like he was on top of the world. He never once imagined that he had a chance of being back, let alone getting one of his boys dragged there with him.

It seemed so easy getting out the first time, but now…things were different. There were a dozen guards, the doors were bolted shut, and it seemed like every time the main door opened, it would be the last.

He tried to push down his thoughts, knowing that any sign of potential weakness would come back to haunt him, but he couldn’t find that same hope he had the last time he had been in the

But this time he wasn’t alone. This time he had the obnoxious Italian kid he’d known as a little brother for the better part of his entire life. He had a little piece of home with him to keep him going. Albeit, that ‘little piece of home was almost a whole head taller than him, but he was like a little brother. Always had been.

So Jack found a way to fall asleep and, for once, made it through the night.

The light from the window was the only thing harder to sleep with than the brick wall behind them and the concrete floor they were slumped over. Despite the fact that they both could agree they’d rather be out selling than anywhere else, it was nice for once to be able to sleep past daybreak.

“Damn, how’d ya’ do this for three months?” Race grumbled groggily as he rubbed his eyes. He started to stretch out his and instantly winced, curling back in on himself.

“Got used ta’ it, I guess. You okay?” He took one glance beside him and Race was desperately clutching at his chest. “Racer, talk to me, what’s going on?”

Jack crawled around him, kneeling as he tried to coerce the boy to open up and let him help.

“It’s fine, Jack. I’s fine, just a lil’ beat up s’all,” he spoke through gritted teeth, keeping up his steely stature, but giving in as Jack grabbed his wrists and took a look at his chest.

“Antonio, I swear, you’s gonna’ regret it later if I don’t get a look at ya’,” he argued, momentarily cursing himself for pushing the kid to do it, but he was relieved when the Race started lifting off his shirt carefully.

There, staining through his undershirt, was a giant gash along his chest, surrounded by bruises and covered in dried blood around the edges.

Jack didn’t even know what to say as he simply sank his head into his hands. This, _this_ could really fucking break them. If Snyder laid a hand on Race, let alone if he somehow found out about his injuries, he’d be done. There wouldn’t be anything left that Jack could do and he sure as hell wasn’t going to risk that.

He tugged off his vest, neither of them speaking other than Race’s occasional winces as Jack fastened the fabric as a makeshift tourniquet of sorts.

“That okay?” Race nodded, keeping his head down as he laid back against the wall. “Good. You’s tough, kid. Ya’ really had me goin’ for a second, but that’s the best I’s gonna’ be able ta’ do before we get ya’ out a’ here.”

“You mean us. I ain’t leavin’ wit’out you,” Race spat, clearly annoyed that Jack seemed to not care one bit about getting himself out.

“I get it, ya’ don’t like it, but we’s gotta be realistic, Racer. It’s been almost five years since I last busted out a’ here n’ things is real different. The best chance we’s got is ta’ get you’s out as soon as we can. There’s no way we’s gettin’ out together n’ the only way you’s stayin’ in ‘ere longer than me is over my dead body, got it?”

Race sniffled and rubbed his face with his sleeve, a shakiness to his breaths.

“Please don’t say that,” he mumbled so quietly Jack could barely hear it, but he slid an arm around the boy’s shoulder and helped him up off the ground.

Jack didn’t know what to do. It was like talking to a stranger. This Race wasn’t the same Racetrack Higgins he found every second of every day with the world’s widest grin on his face. This wasn’t the Race that would wake up before anyone else just to take a jog around the city. This wasn’t the same boy who didn’t have a care in the world and could somehow charm his way out of anything. No, this Racetrack Higgins was trapped and he knew it with every fiber of his body.

This Race looked like he’d just seen a ghost the moment the door swung open mere moments later. Jack couldn’t tell whether he was afraid of getting hurt or of another one of their friends getting tossed in their with them, but he honestly didn’t know which was worse.

“It’s okay, I’ll handle it. Jus’ keep quiet, okay?” The way he spoke with such certainty had Race nodding furiously and practically cowering in the corner under the window. “Good. Good, yeah that’s real good kid. Stay right ‘ere n’ no matter what, don’t say anythin’.”

Jack stood carefully, creeping out from behind a bunk full of equally-terrified kids as Snyder stepped into the room, a cane in hand.

“Where’s tha’ new kid?” He hissed, his voice like poison as Jack and Race looked at each other. The latter had gone sheet-white, trembling as Jack gave him a small smile and stepped out of the shadows.

“Right ‘ere, sir,” Jack spoke calmly, making sure to sound just a little bit scared, not that it was faked at all.

Snyder let out a sick laugh, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention to Jack.

“Nice try, but I ain’t lookin’ for ya’ this time, Kelly,” he seethed, spitting in the boy’s face as Jack tried his best to stand still without crumbling to his knees. “Where’s tha’ kid that ruined my leverage? That blondie.”  
  
Jack exhaled with the weight of a crushed plan as Snyder gripped the front of his shirt and tossed him to the side.

“Ahh, hello there. Now, if I can remember right, you’s the little _punk_ that almost made me lose that one,” he spoke, stepping closer and closer to Race as Jack scrambled off the ground. The moment he stood, Snyder’s finger was pointing right into his chest. Shit. “I’ll have a field day wit’ Kelly later, but you’s the one I _really_ can’t wait to play with.”

Those words. Those were the words that meant you weren’t getting a beating. The most horrific words that man ever uttered to that room full of kids. He wanted to _play with him._ With _Race._ No, there was no way. Jack knew the kid could take a beating, hell he could probably take a hundred, but he knew what Snyder wanted and he knew for a fact Race wouldn’t last a second.

“ _No!_ No, I’ll do it! Jus’, don’t…touch him jus’ yet,” Jack interrupted, shoving himself between the two, kneeling in front of Snyder and keeping Race firmly behind him. “Please, I’ll let ya’ do whatever ya’ want, jus’ don’t hurt him, _please._ ”

Race was practically sobbing behind him and Jack just hoped maybe Snyder did, in fact, have the tiniest bit of humanity in him, but deep down he knew there was no way.

“Oh how sweet, ya’ think it’s that easy? Nah, ya’ ain’t as pretty as ya’ used ta’ be,” he breathed, leaning over into the boy’s face so close Jack could smell the whiskey on his breath. “This one, _well_ , jus’ look at ‘im!”

Race whimpered shyly, grabbing onto the back of Jack’s shirt to ground him.

“ _You_... _can’t…touch…him,”_ Jack practically growled. It was a whole different side to him he’d never noticed before, but really the only thing running through his head in that moment was that there was absolutely no way he would let Snyder do to Race what he had suffered through so many times before.

Snyder seemed to think he was pathetic, which he probably was compared to this monster, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care. He lunged at Snyder, his fist smacking into the man’s jaw as a radiating smack filled the room. Everything went by in a blur and before he knew it Snyder was on the other side of the door, bolting it shut and clutching his clearly-broken nose.

Jack sank to his knees in front of the door, resting his forehead against the cool metal and breathing heavily. He glanced down at his hands, examining the damage he had done on his knuckles before simply wiping the blood on his trousers and accepting it was worth it. When he stood up and composed himself, the room full of kids were staring at him with a mixture of terror and awe. He smiled slightly, hoping the kids weren’t afraid of him, but it seemed to work.

When he stepped back into the corner, Race practically launched himself off the floor and clung to Jack. The latter chuckled, patting the other’s back as he held just as tightly.

* * *

 

There wasn’t much to do when you weren’t being beaten senseless or taken back to Snyder’s private room for ‘play time’. In fact, really the only thing you could to was sleep, which meant that Jack and Race sat on the window sill and talked. Yes, it was mostly just Jack’s attempt to try and get Race to forget about what was happening for a little while, but they hadn’t actually talked in a really long time. Most of their conversations were either about the strike, or their leadership duties, or the kids back at the lodging house, but they never actually sat down and talked to each other.

“I’s gonna’ kill Albert if he doesn’t do what I told ‘im when I left,” Race grumbled, leaning into his hand as he continued staring out the window. The fire escape was right there just inches away, but the bars over the window just taunted them that there was no easy way out. Even the window could be opened easily from the outside, but no matter what, there was no getting out through there. “N’ if he is, that son of a bitch better hurry up.”

Jack chuckled, shifting slightly as he watched the people milling about on the streets below.

“What was it?”

“What was what?”  
  
Jack rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What’d ya’ ask ‘im to do, ya’ dolt.”

Race flushed red as if he only just realized Jack had heard what he had said. “It’s nothin’, I jus’ needed ta’ see somebody.”

Jack figured he probably didn’t want to talk about it and, if Albert actually did bring whoever it was, he figured he’d find out eventually.

And he did, just after the sunset and most of the other kids had started going to bed. It was like a whole different world in that room without Snyder coming in and terrifying everyone.

Jack was sitting against the wall, picking at the bricks and grout as Race sat on the windowsill, humming softly. Jack wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but he heard a soft rattling outside the window and Race’s excited squeal was enough to steal away Jack’s attention. He looked to the window and almost jumped as he saw a figure on the other side, both boys eagerly trying to open the window as Race slipped his wrists through the bars.

Jack stood to get a better look as Race and the boy quietly pried open the window.

“Jack, please don’t freak out, I’s gonna’ explain, I swear, but jus’…try not ta’ freak out,” Race warned, leaving Jack confused as to who could possibly make him freak out, but he shrugged and sat down beside the boy, practically falling over when he saw who was there.

“Spot? What the hell are ya’ doin’ here? After everythin’! How dare y-” Jack hissed with a violent whisper as Race tried to dispel the situation.

“Jack! Jackie, calm down, it’s fine. It’s fine, I swear. Yeah, Spot, I’s mad at you too, but please don’t hurt each other, it ain’t worth it,” Race groaned, looking between the two as he sighed, slowly reaching his hand through the bars and wrapping it around Spot’s.

“O- _oh_ so you’s…wait this is-oh fuck, okay, I’s gonna’ stay outta’ your way, but Spot, I’s gonna need ta’ talk to you’s b’fore ya’ go,” Jack rambled as he backed away, confused out of his mind and slightly amused.

Race chuckled as he leaned against the bars, feeling Spot’s forehead meet his own as they both watched their hands. Spot took his thumb and ran it over the other boy’s knuckles, keeping them both content.

“I missed you, ya’ know,” Race mumbled, keeping as quiet as he could.

Spot chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I missed you too, T.”

There was a brief silence that settled between them as they simply tried to pretend that there wasn’t a painful grid keeping them apart. If this was the best they could get, that was enough for them to be okay.

“Shit, Racer,” Spot swore, startling Race as he broke their silence. “This is all my goddamn fault, if I’d a’ jus’ been there I could’a done somethin’ n’ you wouldn’t be stuck in ‘ere n’-“

“Stop. Jus’…stop,” Race breathed, shaking slightly as he gripped Spot’s hand tightly. “I dunno’ what I’d do with myself if you’s was locked up in ‘ere, Spotty. I don’t blame you’s at all, not even a little, but please…jus’ tell me you’s wit’ us. Tell me you’s joinin’ the strike.”

Spot nodded reaching a hand through the bars the card through Race’s hair gently, pulling his head down as he pressed his lips softly to the boy’s forehead.

“I’s with you. I’s with _you_ n’ I’s with Manhatt’n. Brooklyn’ll take care a’ the rest a’ the strike n’ i’s gonna’ get you outta’ here. I promise you,” he spoke, a genuine confidence in his voice. “Now come ’ere, let me see ya’.”

Race smiled shyly as he shifted closer into the light from the room. Spot reached through the bars, cupping Race’s cheek as he ran his thumb over the darkening bruise around his eye.

Jack looked up from unravelling a hole inches trousers and for a second he panicked. Spot had his hand on Race’s face as he couldn’t see what the latter’s face looked like, but something inside of his just…flipped.

“ _Hey!_ ” He lunged to the window, practically yanking Race away as the two freaked out. “Don’t you _dare_ touch him!”

Spot stared back at him as if he was delirious as Race was wrestling himself out of Jack’s grasp.

“Get _off a’ me!_ ” Race was torn. Yeah, Jack probably had good reason, but he had this sinking feeling in his chest that he needed every minute with the people he cared about so if Jack was holding him back, he clearly wasn’t afraid, or at least just in denial.

“Kelly,” Spot hissed, a twinge of embarrassment in his eyes as he stood outside the window, fists clenched at his sides. “ _Get…your hands…off him.”_

Jack froze. He let go instantly, slowly backing away with terror-filled eyes.

“I’m sorry…,” he mumbled softly, his eyes fleeting back and forth between the two. Not those words. No. No he wasn't like that. He couldn't stop hearing his own voice spitting those very words at Snyder and almost threw up just thinking about someone using the same line towards him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_. Please jus’ don’t hurt ‘im, I’s sorry, I can take it, jus’ don’t hurt him _please!”_

There was silence in the room as the quiet chatter amongst the few kids that were still awake stopped abruptly. Race rushed to his side in the least threatening way possible and just slid to his knees in front of him.

“Jack?” He kept his voice soft and careful as he waited for the boy to respond. Jack only lifted his gaze slightly, pure terror in his eyes as he met Race’s. “Oh, Jackie, I’s so sorry. I know ya’ didn’t mean it, believe me! Thank you so much for tryin’ ta’ take care a’ me, I owe ya’ my life for that, but ya’ got nothin' ta’ worry ‘bout. I promise you. Everythin’s gonna be okay. He ain’t gonna’ hurt me, but if he did, he knows I’d soak ‘im right back.”

Jack seemed to breathe a little easier after that. He nodded slowly, blinking a few times as he looked away to rub his eyes, but he sat up on his knees and took a deep breath.

“This place messed me up, Racer,” he sighed, moving his fingers slowly through his hair. “It’s been years, but I guess I still ain’t over it. Believe me, I trust ya’ to take care a’ yourself, but I jus’ worry ‘bout someone layin’ a hand on ya’ that might not be a gentle one.” Race nodded shyly, reaching up to brush a strand of his hair back behind his ear. “Jus’ promise me you’s gonna’ be careful. Don’t let ‘im do anythin’ ta’ hurt ya’ or I’s gonna have ta’ kill ‘im.”

Race laughed lightly, looking back behind them to Spot still seated outside the window and nodded.

“I gotcha’, Jackie,” he grinned, jogging back over to the window with Jack walking close behind.

“Everythin’ okay?” Spot turned to Race and asked the moment he sat down. Race smiled and nodded, reaching back out through the bars as Jack sat opposite him on the windowsill. “Good. Kelly, I already told ‘im, but we’s wit’ the strike. Brooklyn n’ the whole rest a’ the city’s newsies. We’s gonna’ finish this thing n’ get the two a you’s outta’ ‘ere in no time.”

Jack nodded, slightly afraid that everyone was going to keep going without them, especially since he couldn’t be there to look after any of them.

“Make sure my kids is okay, yeah? They’s all gonna’ put on a brave face, but if we’s the ones stuck in ‘ere, they’s got no clue what ta’ do. I ain’t askin’ you ta’ go run Manhattan, but at least during tha’ strike, make sure they’s all takin’ care a’ each other,” Jack requested as Spot spit in his palm, sticking his hand through the bars as Jack did the same. The shook firmly and not without a mutual smile.

“Don’t worry about a thing, we’s gonna’ finish this thing in no time,” Spot joked, turning to Race. “I’ll come back n’ see ya’ tomorrow, yeah?”

Race smiled a little as he nodded.

“Stay safe, _both_ a’ you’s. I love you, I’ll see you’s tomorrow, Tony,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the latter quickly through the bars before ducking away into the night.

Jack smirked as he looked over at Race, noticing the dark red coloring that covered his entire face. He waited just a moment before deciding to interrupt his little 'moment'.

"He good to ya'?" Race looked up at him and beamed, nodding slightly and bouncing his curls out of their position. "Good. Don't ever let it change."

Jack crawled back to their spot by the wall and pulled his cap down over his eyes, feeling Race move in beside him just moments later. They would be okay for another day.


	2. goodbye until tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jack and race make a friend, get in trouble, get out of trouble, get in bigger trouble, and that's before everything all goes to shit
> 
> this will include a lot of really problematic behavior from certain characters, a lot of violence, crude language, and more that could potentially be triggering for readers. please do not read this if you have trouble reading things that include abuse, manipulation, isolation, life-threatening illnesses, harsh injury, mentions of minor character death, or anything of the like
> 
> you have been warned:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the title has nothing to do with the chapter, i just wanted to do the other half of the song form tl5y)
> 
> ok so this is definitely longer than i planned and i just want to give a quick shoutout to my main gal wet (@wetcoffeejpg on tumblr) for keeping me motivated throughout the whole time i was writing this and also for letting me write her amazing oc skip into this:) ily

Jack woke up with a start that next morning. His dreamless sleep was interrupted by a jolting scream as his hazel eyes snapped open.

Snyder’s sadistic sneer was the first thing he saw as he fully took in the man pinning Race to his chest with his free hand clamped over the boy’s mouth. Race had tears pouring down his cheeks as he thrashed and shook under the old man’s grip.

Jack felt his stomach drop as he scrambled to his feet, stumbling half-awake after Snyder as he practically threw Race through the door and slammed it in Jack’s face.

_“Jack! Jack help me! Please, I can’t-“_

Race’s screams through the door stopped abruptly and Jack stood, pounding and kicking at the door before sinking to his knees, banging his forehead against the cold metal.

Just like that, everything had fallen apart in seconds and there was nothing he could do.

His chest felt heavy and his breaths became shallow until a small voice spoke up and he whipped around on his knees, stumbling back against the door.

“Where’s he takin’ ‘im?” A small girl stood before him with deeply-rooted fear behind her eyes as she rocked back and forth on her heels. “Is he…is he gettin’ outta’ ‘ere?”

The horror quickly turned to wonder as Jack chuckled humorlessly. 

“Nah, kid. It ain’t that easy,” he sighed, too exhausted by the rocky start to the morning to traumatize a little kid. “But he…he’s gon’ be fine, don’t ya’ worry ‘bout him.”

He plastered on a fake smile as the little girl nodded, not seeming to believe Jack in the slightest.

“But he was crying! And…and screaming,” she spoke, the fear returning to her voice as Jack picked himself up off the floor and followed her back to the bunk she had been staying in.

“Yeah, kiddo, but I’m gonna’ try ta’ make sure he’s okay. I guess you’s right, maybe he ain’t okay right now, but I’s gonna’ make sure Snyder ain’t gonna’ lay another hand on ‘im,” Jack spoke, sitting beside the girl as he crossed her legs in front of her.

She nodded, tucking a strand of her short brown hair behind her ear as she shifted awkwardly in her position. Jack coupld practically hear his own heart pounding in his chest.

“So who is he then?” The little girl asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Jack sighed deeply, glancing back up at the door. “Tha’ guys back home, we all call ‘im Racetrack. Race for short. His name’s really Antonio, though.”

“Oh, so’s ya’ already knew ‘im?” Jack chuckled and told her yes. “Then why’s he ‘ere?”

Yikes.

“Well, he’s a good guy, ya’ see. He ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Actually, he was savin’ one a’ our friends from gettin’ thrown in ‘ere,” Jack spoke, an overwhelming amount of admiration in his voice.

“Why are _you_ here, then?” Her twinkling green eyes reminded Jack quite a bit of himself back when he first entered the refuge. All he had wanted to do was meet all of the other kids and learn their stories. He still remembered almost all of the friends he made back then.

“Well, you see,” he started, noticing a few more kids around him start to listen in as he chuckled lightly, pulling off his cap to run his hands through his hair a little. “I’s one a’ them newsies that sell papes for the paper companies across the city. The pro’lem is that the bosses a’ the papes, they’s not too fond a’ us kids. So’s the raised the price we had ta’ pay ta’ get the papes by a whole dime.” The kid seemed blown away.

"Really? They's can jus' do that? But that ain't fair!" 

"Yeah, we know, kiddo. That's kinda' why we's fightin'," Jack finished simply, a small smile on his face as he stood, turning away from the little girl.

 

 

 

 

Jack, like some sort of machine controlled to move, went back to the window. He sat on the ledge, leaning his head against the bars as he watched the door across the room, trying to decide if he wanted the door to open again.

On one hand, the door opening up again would likely mean getting Race back.

On the other hand, getting Race back meant whatever Snyder or his goons did to him was real.

So, he just sat there and waited. He had no idea how long it had been, but the moment the walls felt paper thin and the giant metal door felt like nothing, he could hear the screams.

_“No! Get the fuck off a’ me! You can’t-do-this! Ugh, you dick! Jus’ let me back in, fuckin’ hell!”_

Race’s voice was only slightly reassuring. Yeah, the words he spoke made Jack feel sick to his stomach, but at least he was alive, and at least he was conscious, and at least he seemed to be back to his typical fiery attitude.

He scrambled off the window ledge and moved across the concrete floor, motioning to the kids around the room to stay where they were as the heavy metal door scraped across the floor. There was silence as the door slowly creaked open, but just as Jack was about to go dashing through looking for Race, the boy went flying across the floor, face down and crumpled.

Jack slid across the floor on his knees situating himself by the boy’s head as he grabbed his shoulder and rolled Race onto his back.

“Fuck, Racer,” he breathed as the boy groaned, reaching up to his face as he wiped his hand under his nose, cracking his eyes open and groaning at the blood covering his hand. “Did he…what tha’ fuck did he do?”

Race just shook his head, covering. His eyes with his hand as he rubbed his temples.

“Don’ worry ‘bout it, Jackie,” he slurred, wincing as he made a move to sit upright. “I’s fine, jus’ help me up, will ya?”

Jack mumbled out a string of useless curse words as he slid his hands under Race’s back and lifted him slightly as the boy folded his legs in front of him.

Considering he had already been in pretty rough shape before, he looked terrible. His nose was probably broken, not to mention the left black eye he was already sporting seemed to have somehow gotten darker. The blood from the gash on his chest was seeping through his shirt, showing that it had reopened, and he seemed to be sitting a little awkwardly, likely meaning there were more things that Jack couldn’t even see.

“Alright, I ain’t gonna jus’ let ya’ bleed out ‘ere on tha’ ground, c’mon,” he mumbled, sliding his arms around the other and carefully lifting him across the room. Race slung one arm around Jack’s shoulders, but held tightly to the buttons along the boy’s shirt with his other hand.

“P-please, jus’…jus’ don’ l-l-leave me, Jackie,” Race mumbled, a little blood dripping from the corner of his lips. “H-he…I c-c-can’t go back-k there.”

Jack shuddered as he gently lowered the boy onto one of the sagging mattresses, making sure to be as careful as possible.

“That okay, kid?” Race nodded, shutting his eyes tight as he covered his face with his hands “You sure?”

Race paused, not responding before a weak whimper broke his lips and his hands flew to grab onto Jack’s shirt, pulling him onto his knees beside the bed.

“N-no _!_ It…It ain’t fine! Snyder he-he made me take all my clothes off b-b-but when he saw my chest, h-he said I was hopeless n’ jus’…said he was gonna’ ‘get it ov’a with’,” Race cried, his voice a terrified whisper as his trembling hands gripped the front of Jack’s shirt tightly. “He kept t-touching me, touching my _chest_ , Jack! H-he said he wanted ta’ make it worse so’s he could get it ov’a with…I don’…what’d he mean, Jackie? H-he didn’t…is he try’na get rid a’ me?”

His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he leaned in close to Jack’s face, whispering harshly.

Jack shuddered, his eyes flicking down to the growing patch of blood seeping through the boy’s short and almost gagging as he covered his mouth with his hand. God, he couldn’t think. Everything was just so, so much happening at once and he couldn’t breathe right because if he took a second to breathe then maybe he’d lose Race again and they’d be done for.

So he settled for hazily shaking his head and not meeting the boy’s eyes.

“Jack…,” he whispered, letting go of the boy’s shirt as he sank back into the old mattress, tears building in the corners of his eyes. “Jack, I’s so scared. H-he’s makin’ sure I ain’t gettin’ outta’ ‘ere in once piece.”

Jack nodded, inhaling sharply as he shakily sat down on the edge of the bunk and wrapped a hand gently around the boy’s shoulder.

“You’s gonna’ be okay. I don’ know how, but you’s gonna’ make it outta’ this shithole. Me n’ you, Racer. We’s gettin’ out a’ here together,” Jack whispered, a shy smile on his face as he turned back to look at the boy. Race sniffled, rubbing the tears out of his eyes as he nodded, grinning as he caught his breath. “Good. I’s gonna’ let ya’ sleep in jus’ a second, I jus’ gotta’ get a look at ya’.”

Race hummed in acceptance, but whined the moment Jack had almost peeled his shirt off completely. He motioned for Jack to keep going, but shoved his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming as the gash was exposed. There were both old and new beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as he went pale, looking away the moment he saw the damage.

“Hey,” Jack started, gently turning the boy’s head to look over at him instead. “Look at me, kid. It…it ain’t that bad. You’s gonna’ be jus’ fine, I swears it. Don’t even look, I’s gonna’ take care of it.”

Jack tore at the edge of the ratty, old bedsheet before he ripped loose a suitable sized piece to clean up the boy. Within seconds it was bright red. He was able to get rid of most of the blood, but the problem was that after that, he could really see how much shit they were going to have to deal with.

Yeah, it was pretty badly infected. He had a feeling it had been for a while at that point, but as much as he hated to admit it, there wasn’t much he could do. They didn’t really get access to more water than they needed to drink, they didn’t get a chance to shower and clean it out, and they definitely didn’t get any medicine, so they would just have to wait it out and hope for the best.

 _Hope for the best,_ he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned up against the bunk bed ladder, Race already fast asleep beside him. _Yeah, I’ll just hope for the best that I’m not carrying that kid’s body out of this hell-hole._

“I thought ya’ said he was gonna’ be okay?” A small voice shocked him out of his frustration. Amelia, the little girl who had come up to him earlier that day now stood in front of him with her small arms crossed over her chest.

Jack sat down on one of the lower rungs of the ladder as he tried to keep the growing anxiety subsided as much as possible.

“Don’ worry ‘bout ‘im, Ames, he’s gonna’ be fine,” Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “You said he was okay, but you was lyin’! He’s all…all hurt n’ _bloody!_ ”

Jack rolled his eyes and climbed off the ladder, tucking his hands into his pockets as he headed for the window. She practically dove after him, skipping animatedly to catch up as he sat down on the window sill.

“Woah, slow down there, skipper,” he chuckled, grabbing the girl’s shoulders to steady her as she plopped down beside him in a cross-legged position. She beamed, looking up at the older boy. “What, ya’ like that? Skipper?”

Skip shrugged and nodded casually, but the pride blooming across her face from her new nickname was blatantly obvious.

“So, _Skip_ ,” Jack exhaled, teasing a little before he leaned back against the window and picked at a patch of dried blood on the cuff of his sleeve. “I’s been in ‘ere quite a few times before n’ it ain’t easy ta’ explain this, but I think you’s ready for it.”

She nodded and Jack glanced around the room before starting, his eyes lingering on Race for an extra moment as he watched the boy’s chest rising and falling slowly.

“Nobody that comes in or out a’ this place is exactly ‘okay’ or ‘not okay’. Maybe if I get outta’ ‘ere one day, I’s gonna’ be okay on the outside, but maybe I’s still gonna’ have nightmares about this place for a while. Maybe you’s gonna’ be okay inside when ya’ get outta’ ‘ere, but maybe you’s gonna’ have a few scrapes n’ bruises on tha’ outside,” Jack explained, not really wanting to look at anything other than his fingers as the bloodstained fabric slowly began to fall apart in his fingers. “Racer ain’t okay right now, but that’s jus’ today. We don’t got any idea how long it’s gonna be ’til he’s okay, but I’s gonna’ make sure he is, so you don’t have ta’ worry ‘bout anythin’, okay, kid?”

Skip seemed to understand as she nodded, looking over at Race for a second before hopping off the window ledge and skipping over to the bunk bed. She slid to her knees beside where Race remained peacefully asleep and carefully reached out to poke at his face.

Jack just about flew over there, but Race was already stirring by the time he appeared behind Skip, who still had the proudest grin on her face.

Race groaned as he rolled onto his side, cracking one eye open to squint at her as Skip waved to him.

Race opened his eyes fully, looking to Jack for a second as the latter just shrugged.

“Hey’a kid,” Race grumbled, rubbing at his eyes gently enough to not irritate the bruises.

Skip looked up at Jack behind her, pleased with herself before she hopped onto the bed, startling Race a little as he chuckled nervously.

“Uh, you got’s a name, don’t ya’?” Race seemed to be trying his hardest to not be rude in what was, frankly, a very annoying situation.

Skip just tucked her legs in front of her and she rested her arms on her knees, balancing her chin on top.

“Skip,” she spoke curtly, not doing much but staring at him. “Jack tol’ me ‘bout you.”

Race scoffed dryly, turning to look over at Jack, who shrugged.

“Can I sit?” She asked, already sitting.

Race chuckled weakly, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I see’s you’s made ya’self at home ‘ere already, Skipper.”

Skip rolled her eyes, but readjusted herself to be more comfortable nonetheless.

“So,” Race coughed, rolling onto his back as he tried to plaster something other than pain onto his face. “I’s gonna’ take a lil’ nap, but you’s welcome ta’ join me if ya’ feel so inclined.”

Right, so apparently near-death didn’t apply to his spirit.

Jack chuckled and dig into his sock before pulling out a small stick of charcoal.

“You’s ever tried drawin’ b’fore?” Jack asked, already keeping his voice down after hearing Race’s gentle snores beside him. Skip shook her head but he waved for her to follow him back to the window. He carefully pried it open and reached through to pull out a single newspaper page that Spot had left behind. Jack had already read it over a few times, it was a documentation from Specs about all of the injuries and problems from the strike after all, but the other side was nice and clean. He folded it up into a small rectangle before holding it up and sketching the little girl.

“So, Skipper. What brings ya’ in ‘ere? If ya’ don’t mind me askin’, that is,” Jack pondered as he drew, carefully capturing the slight curve at the end of her freckle-covered nose.

“Oh, uh…I uh ran away a coupl’a months ago,” she mumbled, a nervous blush growing on her cheeks. “My parents, they’s real rich, but I guess afta’ my brother died, they didn’t feel like wastin’ any more a’ they’s money on me, so I ran away.”

Jack sighed and nodded, reaching over to ruffle the girl’s dark brown waves.

“Snyder found me tryna’ get some food off a’ some cart in a farmers’ market n’ he took me ‘ere,” she finished. “That was ‘bout a week or two ago. I can’t r’member.”

“Good on ya’, kid. You’s tough,” Jack smirked, blowing off the excess charcoal dust before handing over the paper to the girl. Her eyes widened as she gazed at the portrait, the light from the setting sun making her young eyes twinkle with wonder.  
  
“You pictured me? Jus’ like that?” Skip beamed, a new look of admiration on her face. “Are ya’ an artist?”

Jack chuckled, carefully sliding off the windowsill as he held out his hand, helping Skip hop down the same. 

“It’s more like a hobby, but sure, if you’s bein’ vague ‘bout it,” Jack remarked, the girl’s awe of his talent making his cheeks go pink.

Skip simply skipped back to the bunk and gently crawled up beside Race. She was careful not to disturb the boy, but she quickly tossed her cap onto the thin mattress and used it as a pillow.

“Get some sleep, kid. Don’t hesitate ta’ get me if ya’ need anythin’,” Jack whispered, ruffling her hair before returning to the other side of the bunk and quickly pressing his hand against Race’s forehead. The boy was burning up and the beads of sweat matting his hair down to his forehead were collecting in rapid fashion. There were darkening circles around his eyes where the bruises had started to fade and his skin had gone sickeningly pale.

Goddamn, if things started falling apart already, there was no way they could make it much longer. They were just two days in and Jack could already tell that Race’s infection was catching up to him. Sure, Skip would be fine without catching it, seeing as it was almost certainly from his chest, rather than an actual contagious illness, but he didn’t want her to get worried. He would get her out of there if he could, but in all honesty, Race was his priority and if it came down to getting one person out of the three of them, he’d at least make sure it wasn’t him.

So, as the sun began to set on just their second day, Jack kept his back against the bedpost with his hand wrapped around Race’s shoulder and his eyes trained on the door. He didn’t sleep much, but he had more important things to do. Sure, he knew that if Davey knew he wasn’t taking care of himself, he’d flip out, but Jack understood these things better than his friend. Being in and out of the refuge his whole life gave him the intel he needed to know exactly how to protect the people he needed to protect and how to keep himself around for nothing more than to do his one job.

He stared out at the nearly completely silent room and sighed, tugging his cap down over his eyes and hoping at least closing his eyes for a little while would be close enough to sleeping.

* * *

 

The next morning, there was a rapid knocking on the window. The old glass pane rattled and Jack practically flew out of his seat. He was at the window in seconds, face to face with a small group of his friends. He fiddled with the latch through the bars before he slid open the window and threw his arms around the boy, not really minding the bars in between them.

“Davey, I’s so sorry,” Jack whined, gripping onto the boy’s vest as they separated. Davey’s eyes were raw and his cheeks were bright red, breaking Jack’s heart to think that the boy had cried for him. “I should’a done somethin’, I’s s’pposed ta’ be tha’ one takin’ care a’ you guys, but I’s tha’ one stuck up in ‘ere.”

“Shh, shh,” Davey shushed him, gripping Jack’s shoulders. “We’re going to be fine, you just worry about getting out of here in one piece. We’ve got things handled just fine, but you…you just need to keep holding your ground. Specs and I, we can handle the kids back at the house. Besides, the strike’s about to be handled now.”

Jack’s terrified eyes widened as he let go of Davey in shock. He looked through the small trio, relieved to notice nothing more than scabbing cuts and fading bruises. _Davey, Albert, and a very nervous looking Katherine picking at the cuff of her blouse in the back._

“You’s all okay?” Jack asked, his voice soft and concerned as awkward nods filled the group. “Ya’ ain’t hurt or nothin’?”

Albert sniffled a little, lifting his eyes as he glanced behind Jack, looking into the room.

“W-where’s Race?” Albert shyly asked, a primitive fear in his eyes that Jack knew all too well. He put on a smile, hoping to ease some of that fear, even just for a moment.

“I ain’t gonna’ sugar coat it, he’s here. He’s still a bit worn out from the other day, so’s he’s still asleep, but he’s gonna’ be fine, don’t worry,” Jack sighed, hoping he wasn’t lying. That didn’t seem to ease his friends much, but it was something. “Albert, he told me ta’ tell ya’ thanks for what ya’ did last night. Really helped.”  
  
That got a small smile out of the boy as he shifted off his toes, properly sitting back down.

“You okay, Kath?” Jack seemed to startle the girl, who hadn’t looked him in the eyes the entire time.

Her head shot up, her curls bouncing as she stammered out a response, “Y-yes! Yeah, um, yes. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jack snorted, a more genuine smile filling up his face instead.  
  
“Yeah right, you’s actin’ jus’ like you was when I first caught ya’ on tha’ streets,” Jack teased, hoping to get the girl to stop looking at him like someone just kicked her puppy.

“Sorry, sorry,” she rambled, her hands mindlessly smoothing out her hair as she flattened out her skirt. “Sorry, I’m just…a little stressed out.”

Jack smiled sadly as he reached through the bars and placed a hand on her knee.

“Kath, tha’ only thing worth worryin’ ya’ pretty little head ‘bout is keepin’ these hooligans in line n’ gettin’ out a good story. I’s gonna’ be fine. Albo, keep ya’ head on ya’ shoulders, Race’ll be fine. Jus’ be safe, all a’ you’s got nothin’ ta’ worry about ’til tha’ strike’s over,” he rambled, trying to make sure that they would be done in time to get Albert back to the lodging house and Katherine and Davey back to their families. He couldn’t stand the possibility of Snyder and his goons catching any of them on their way sneaking out. “Ju’s be careful gettin’ outta’ ‘ere. Snyder’s got a few guys that wait outside when tha’ sun goes down, jus’ make sure ta’ keep ya’ head down n’ try not ta’ call attention ta’ ya’self.”

Jack made sure to get a nod out of each of them before he let himself relax, only to almost fall off the stoop when Skip plopped down beside him.

“Jack! Jack, ya’ gotta’ come quick!” Her half-whisper, half-shout was too much for Jack to hold back a chuckle as he ruffled her hair, scooting over so she could have a proper seat on the windowsill.

“Skip, these are my friends; Davey, Albert, n’ Katherine. Guys, this is Skip,” Jack quickly explained, brightening a little when he saw his friends quickly take to the girl. “What’s goin’ on, kiddo?” He turned to her completely as she stood up just as quickly as she had sat and grabbed his hand, attempting to pull him up off the window.

“C’mon, Race is awake, _finally_ ,” she sighed dramatically as Jack felt the knot in his stomach unravel slightly. The group started to perk up slightly as Jack let himself be led by the girl back to the bunk.

Race was in a coughing fit, his face buried in the crook of his elbow as his free arm held himself up on his side. Jack quickly slid to his knees to be level with the boy, brushing the hair out of his face and easing him up to be able to sit upright. With less pressure rushing to his head, Race’s coughing subsided and he now resorted to a drowsy state of weak movement, almost as if he was about to fall asleep again in a matter of seconds.

“Hey,” Jack spoke softly, his tone gentle as he placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, kid, ya’ with me?”

Race nodded weakly, his wiry curls not bouncing like the usually did, instead staying matted down to his forehead with sweat.

“Can I…can I get a quick look at ya’ chest, Racer?” Race let out a small noise of disapproval, but nodded anyway as Jack’s hands carefully began to unbutton his shirt. The skin around the gash was all yellow and purple like a fading bruise and no matter what they did it seemed impossible for it to scab over. To be honest, it looked even worse.

“S’ infected,” he grumbled, already reworking all the buttons. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, Ant. You’s gonna’ be fine.” Race didn’t seem very convinced and honestly, Jack didn’t blame him, but he had to try to help at least a little. “C’mon, let’s go say ‘hey’ ta’ our friends,” Jack muttered, sliding an arm around Race’s torso as he slung the boy’s arm over his shoulders.

“They...they’s here?” Excitement filled the boy’s face as he looked over at Jack.

“Yeah, they’s here, kid.”

Sadly, the smile that lit up Race’s face when he saw his friends was almost ruined by the look on all of their faces. Yeah, Race probably looked awful and maybe Jack was just used to it at that point, but Race looked almost heartbroken.

“H-h-hey guys,” he mumbled, suddenly much shyer than he originally had been just minutes ago.

“Race, what the hell happened?” Davey practically seethed, his eyes wide and terrified like the mama-bird friend he was and Race felt oh, so small. “Did...did Snyder do this?” It seemed like he almost didn’t really want to know the answer.

Race just shrugged his shoulders, acutely aware of how even the slightest movement made his chest sting.

“No, not really I guess,” he mumbled. “S’ from tha’ strike, but I guess Snyder didn’t make it any betta’.”

Davey motioned for him to sit on the windowsill and Race carefully lowered himself down, gripping the bars until his knuckles were white. Katherine reached through the bars to brush away a small collection of dirt on his cheek and Race almost flinched away from her completely. She frowned at the boy’s hesitance, but was gentle as she gave one last little tweak of his curls before slinking back into her previous position.

“You’s all okay?” He whispered, more hopeful than he had thought it would be. Katherine, as expected, was fine and Davey only had a few visible cuts and bruises on his face and arms, but he had no way of know just how bad everyone back at the house was.

Davey and Katherine looked at each other for a moment before they both shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. They’re all pretty scared, though,” he added, a weak smile on his face that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

“They’s scared? What for? Spot tol’ me ‘imself, Brooklyn’s joinin’ tha’ strike, n’ tha’ rest a’ tha’ city, they’s pro’lly gonna’ join too n’-“

“They’s scared for you two,” Katherine interrupted, not looking up from her hands that rested carefully in her lap. “Those kids...they don’t know how this works. Most of them have never been so scared in their lives because for once, they had a family that loved them and they just lost a pretty important part of it.”

Race sniffles and nodded, feeling his heart swell with longing to be back home too.

“I miss ‘em,” he whispered, staring out past them as night fell over the rest of the city. “If I...if I don’t make it outta’ ‘ere, please jus’ promise me ya’ won’t make those kids hold on. Don’t try ta’ make ‘em all remember me or nothin’, I don’t want anybody gettin’ sad over somethin’ that ain’t they’s fault.”

No one said anything for a long time after that. Some kids had started going to bed and even Skip hand curled herself up to Jack’s side, but no one else dared to move.

After lingering for longer than any of them would like to admit, Katherine pressed a quick kiss to the top of the boy’s head as Davey squeezed his hand, following behind her as they carefully climbed down the fire escape.

Race fell asleep right there on the window sill as Jack carried Skip back to the bunk and sat right back down on the floor beside him.

Outside, Davey and Katherine reached the ground and were met with a trembling and petrified Albert waiting right at the base of the ladder.

“Albert? Hey, hey it’s okay. It’s okay just breathe. Deep breaths, okay?” Davey tried soothing the boy as he gripped his shoulders and tried to ground him but Albert just shook his head.

“N-n-no, that’s not-t...th-that’s no-“

“Shh, shh, just breathe. Just focus on breathing right now, yeah? You can try and talk to me about it later, but for now just breathe,” Davey coaxed, easing the boy down until he could see his friend relax a little.

“Th-that’s...not...my...best...friend,” he breathed, his tears beginning to fall from his tired eyes. “It-it _can’t_ be, I don’t...”

All the two could do was hold him and hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be okay soon. They had no way of knowing anything, but even if they did get Jack and Race back soon, there was no telling how they would change.

 

* * *

 

_“You again.”_

Snyder’s deep, brooding voice woke the two boys with a start as they both shot up, Jack suddenly very relieved to have placed himself in front of the other boy.

The man sauntered towards them, reaching for Jack and lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. Jack reached at him, fists swinging left and right, but none with any real power.

“I thought ya’ learned your lesson tha’ first time I snatched ya’ little friend,” the man hissed, his saliva spraying in Jack’s face as he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“Yeah, I did,” he spat back. “N’ ya’ ain’t layin’ anotha’ hand on ‘im ever again.”

Snyder laughed curtly, his snide voice bringing a chill to both the boys. Jack cracked open one eye to look past Snyder, slightly relieved to see Skip still fast asleep. In fact, most of the kids seemed to either be still asleep or to know to stay down and pretend that they were.

“You’s just as snarky as I remember ya’, Kelly,” Snyder drawled, tossing the boy back onto the ground, Jack instantly moving himself back against the wall and standing himself up in front of Race. The latter grabbed a fistful of his shirt and held on tight with shaking hands. “Ya’ really thought I wouldn’t find out you’s tryna’ break out? In case ya’ didn’t notice, I’s got it barred up now. It ain’t gonna’ be easy like last time, kid.”

Jack gulped, steadying himself back on his feet as he retained his composure, not letting his anger waver.

“We ain’t tryna’ get out, he jus’ needed some air. Ya’ see, my friend ‘ere, his chest’s got real infected n’ he jus’ needed to get some air so’s he don’t get sick,” Jack smirked, proud of how the response seemed to baffle the man.

“Right, n’ I’s s’pposed ta’ believe ya’?” Snyder huffed comedically, stepping to the side as he attempted to step around Jack, stopping when the boy moved to cover his friend immediately.

“ _You won’t touch him again,”_ Jack countered, not wavering for a second as he stood his ground. He stood as still as he could manage, carefully calculating exactly what to do in his head as dozens of situations filled his mind.

“Ahh, ya’ see, Jack,” he spoke calmly, simply casting the boy aside as Jack swung at him. “That’s why you’s in ‘ere n’ I’s out there. I can do whateva’ I want wit’ you two. So, you’s gonna’ step aside n’ let me do what I need ta’ do, n’ then you’s gonna’ cooperate when it’s your turn.”

Jack only backed up even further. He wouldn’t budge left or right as he held his hands in fists at his sides. “No.”

Snyder rolled his eyes and glared back at the boy. He took one step towards Jack and gripped the boy by his wrists as Jack swung his fists at Snyder’s head. Fear was pulsing through his veins, but all it took was a sweep at his legs and Snyder socked his head into the concrete floor. Jack was out like a light.

Race screamed, as much as his voice would let him, as Snyder grabbed him. The man held his back to his chest with his arms locked tightly around the boy’s stomach. Race squirmed, kicked, and flailed; anything that might give him a chance at getting away from the man, but to no avail.

He screamed for his friend, never taking his eyes off Jack’s crumpled form, and only giving up when the door slammed shut in his face, with Race and Snyder on the outside.

His throat wracked with sobs and coughs as he was dragged down a hallway of closed doors. He shut his eyes tight, focusing on anything but the sound of the man’s work boots squeaking on the floor, but suddenly Snyder stopped at an open door.

The next thing he knew, Race felt a kick to his back and he fell to the ground. His head smacked against the unforgiving concrete floor and he finally found a way to stop crying.

When Jack finally opened his eyes again, he was faced with a tiny room, long and narrow, with nothing but the light from a window high above and behind him to fill the space. He shifted on his knees to get a better look, but froze as he felt the shackles around his wrists. His heart sank as he realized just how screwed he really was.

He was alone, he couldn’t move, and all he could see were claustrophobically close walls and a door that felt too far away, yet too close all the same. His voice was hoarse as he cleared his throat, panic rising in his chest as he tugged at his wrists behind his back, pounding the restraints against the brick wall in an attempt to make them at least looser.

He let out a string of curses as he felt the cold metal cutting and bruising into his skin, but he couldn’t stop. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he could hear them splattering on the ground, but he didn’t stop. The clanging metal was the only constant comfort he had at that moment.

Jack was out of options. He couldn’t get out this time, he was sure of it. He would die in that room and no one would ever know.

Hell, Race probably would too and he would never find out. In all reality, he could already be dead, but there was no way to know.

He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it, but with hardly any food in it, his nausea just lingered.

He sat back against the wall, leaning his head against the harsh brick, and looked up at the small window above him. No bars. Just a window right above his head.

It was almost too easy.

It was more than big enough for him to fit through and the refuge building wasn’t very tall even though they were on the second floor, and if he just stood up and opened it, he could be free. Simple as that.

But he couldn’t stand up. The restraints around his wrists were far too short to even come close to a standing position.

It was like torture looking up at what was almost the perfect escape.

He pulled his knees into his chest, rested his forehead against them, and finally let himself cry.

* * *

 

Race wasn’t really sure if he was alive, to be honest. He was stuck in almost complete darkness and his head felt so dizzy he couldn’t even be sure if it was dark, or if he just couldn’t see.

His body ached so much he could hardly move, but he still felt…alive? Honestly, he wasn’t sure. It was freezing cold and, as he shifted around a little, he felt concrete beneath him. Right. The refuge.

He groaned, rolling onto his side as he pressed himself up with his minimal arm strength. He shifted into something that resembled a sitting position as he tried to blink himself into some sort of night-vision state.

“Jack…?” He croaked, instantly embarrassed by the sound of his groggy voice.

Silence. He wasn’t sure how big the room he was in was, but maybe he was just farther away.

“Jack?” He called a little louder that time. Still nothing. He shakily stretched out his arms and legs, trying to gauge the size of the room a little.

He couldn’t feel anything at least within arms reach, but by the way he heard his own voice, he was sure it wasn’t a very large room.

He went silent, hoping maybe there would be something he could hear that could tell him where he was, but there was nothing but dead silence.

“Jack?” He could hear the cracks in his voice as he pleaded, but still, no response came. “Jackie, _please!_ Please, I…I’s scared Jack.”

He cried, curling himself up into a ball to the best of his ability. His chest was killing him, he could feel it. It hurt just at the faintest touch and still, after what he knew was at least three days, hadn’t scabbed over. It never seemed to stop bleeding, and if he didn’t know better than to waste his energy on what would ultimately be hopeless, he would try to repair the tourniquet Jack had made him. But he knew better.

At that point, he didn’t want to stall anything he already knew was coming to him.

* * *

 

Skip woke up that morning like any other. She poked the feet hanging off the bunk above her own and climbed off the thin mattress.

The window ledge was empty. She remembered her new friends had been sitting there when she had gone to bed, but when she saw the vacant ledge, she assumed that they had moved to sleep somewhere more comfortable.

She wandered around the room, glancing at every bunk, but the boys were nowhere to be found.

“Ey’, Blues!” You seen Jack?” She asked, jostling the shoulder of a kid sitting near her and picking at the laces on his shoes.

“Jack? Nah’, I ain’t Neva’ heard of ‘im,” Blues answered, only looking up at skip for a second before going back to picking at his laces.

Skip sighed, flopping down beside her friend dramatically.

“Oh c’ _mon!_ Pro’lly tha’ oldest guy ‘ere, brown hair. I think he’s got a blue shirt or somethin’,” Skip rambled as the kid seemed to understand.

“Aw, yeah! I’s seen that guy! He’s gone now, though.”

Skip looked dumbfoundedly at the boy.

“Whaddya’ mean he’s gone?” Jack and Race wouldn’t just _leave her,_ would they? They…she didn’t _think_ they would. “He’s…he’s really gone.” She asked shyly.

“Yeah, he n’ that otha’ kid. Snyda’ came n’ took ‘em this mornin’. They ain’t come back yet,” Blues finished, clearly not as concerned as the girl was as she sprang up and marched over to the main room door.

She huffed, taking a deep breath and gathering up every single ounce of courage she had left. She pounded on the door with both fists, rattling the cold metal and echoing throughout the room. The entire space full of kids all snapped their attention to her, but she didn’t flinch.

She stood as tall as she could, holding her breath as she heard approaching footsteps and the faint jingle of a ring of keys. She gulped, stepping back away from where the door would swing, and stood her ground.

Snyder creaked open the door, a frustrated look on his face, and Skip felt the possibilities filling her head. It had likely only been a few hours since he had taken their friends, but clearly, he hadn’t thought to change his clothes. There was a darkening red smear of blood across his shoulder and Skip felt sick to her stomach just looking at it.

“Where are they?” She bellowed fiercely, anger coursing through her veins. “What did you do to them?”

Snyder smirked, sauntering into the room and crossing his arms as he stood before the little girl.

“Ahh, Amelia,” he chided. Skip felt her blood boil at the name.

For the longest time, only her parents and older relatives would call her Amelia. She hated the name, always had, but it was her name and there wasn’t any way around it. That is, until her older brother started calling her Millie. She adored it, mostly because her brother, William, had given it to her, but they were as close as close could be and he quickly adopted the name ‘Willie’ to her ‘Millie’. They were never _allowed_ to use those names, but the kids did in secret, knowing neither of them liked their given names.

When Amelia Crawford lost her brother, Millie died with him.

“Don’t call me that,” she spat, interrupting the man who let out a quick chuckle as he rolled his eyes.

“N’ what would ya’ like me ta’ call ya’ then, sweetheart?” There was nothing understanding about his tone. He was cruel and sarcastic and Skip knew he wouldn’t take her seriously, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Skip,” she spoke firmly. Snyder sighed, exasperated by what he viewed as childish games, and placed a hand on her back, leading her through the door.  
  
Skip immediately shoved him away, stepping away from the man and folding her arms around her torso.

“Don’ touch me,” she hissed, speeding up her steps to stand a more comfortable distance.

“Amelia, darling, don’ you know I’d never hurt ya’?” His voice was snide and gave the girl chills, but she refused to respond.

The funny thing was that she did know he wouldn’t hurt her. She had been in the refuge for a few months at that point and she was the only one there that Snyder had never laid a hand on. She was always given her food and water rations first and Snyder even announced to the other kids that she would be allowed priority to use the small bathroom in the main room whenever she needed. It took her a while to understand why, but one night as she and a few other kids were out in the hallway doing their chores, she overheard the man and one of his guards discussing something. She stood outside his office listening in and it only took a few seconds for her to discover that they were talking about her. Or, more accurately, her parents.

The Crawford family was one of the richest in the city. They owned multiple of New York’s largest trading ships and were practically famous as far as local standings went.

The Crawfords had two children, William and Amelia, who were rarely known to the public for they were kept inside the family’s lavish apartment almost exclusively. The public heard stories from every newspaper in the city when both children were born, but hardly anyone had ever seen the brother and sister.

Over years and years of neglect and aversion from their parents, William fell sick and his parents simply couldn’t be bothered to waste their money on his medical attention. They had plenty, more than most could ever dream of, yet not enough to get their son decent medical services. They told the children and their series of nannies, butlers, and maids that it was nothing, and that he would likely be fine in a week or so. They never said a word about all of the telltale signs of polio.

Amelia Crawford lost her brother when she was barely nine years old. Afterwards, she didn’t even last a month in that house before she ran away.

She was trying to get some food when he found her. A kind old woman had been taking a stale loaf of bread out to the garbage on the curb and she had simply asked if she could have it since the woman didn’t want it. There was no harm done, even the woman agreed and even offered the little girl a chance to come inside for a while, but she was stopped in her tracks by a man grabbing her arm from behind.

She had been too focused on trying to get away to hear what the man had been telling the old woman, but she could make out a few words.

_Runaway. Thief. Criminal._

She wasn’t any of those things…was she? No, she didn’t think so, at least.

So as the man took her away, she watched the old woman head back inside her house after she simply tossed the bread to a group of pigeons on the sidewalk.

Amelia Crawford ended up in the refuge just like dozens of kids before her had, but she stayed for a completely different reason.

The moment the man brought her in, she gave them her name when she was asked for it and that was the first time she met Snyder. He sat her down in his office, asked her about her family, and promised her he would keep her safe.

It had taken a few weeks for her to find out what he was really doing.

She was a ploy. A hostage being held for ransom, basically. For whatever reason, Snyder and his men were convinced that if the Crawfords found out that he had their daughter, they would pass up some large sum of money to get her back. The problem was, they had no idea how little Skip’s parents cared about their children.

So she gave up hope that she was ever getting out of the refuge. That is, she did until she met Jack, but now he was gone and so was Race.

Still, she held her head high as she followed Snyder out of the main room. She already lost one brother and there was no way in hell she was going to lose two more.

* * *

 

Jack was lost. Not _lost_ lost, he knew exactly where he was, but he had no idea what he was doing. At that point, he had no clue what day it was, how long he had been alone, or anything other than there was still light shining through his window. Either he had only been there a few hours or it could’ve been a whole new day. He couldn’t decide which one would be worse.

He sat up properly, adjusting his arms as much as he could as they stayed behind his back, but he stretched his legs out as far as they could go.

Plenty of room to spare.

For the first time, he was grateful that the room was so goddamn small.

He kicked at the wall as hard as he possibly could, but nothing happened other than the faint echo of the smack through the next room over. Nothing.

Well, at least he knew the room to his right was slightly bigger than his own.

And hopefully empty.

He did the same on his left, kicking at the wall with all his strength as he waited, hoping and praying for any sort of response. Just as he was about to curl back up against the wall and accept defeat, he heard a kick back.

It made him jump, both from the unexpectedness of it, and the fact that is was so loud from the lack of echo.

“Race?” He practically sprung up and slid as close to the wall as he could get.

Nothing. He knocked lightly on the brick, stinging his knuckles, but the pain didn’t matter to him much at all.

“Racer, is that you?” He kept thinking Snyder would burst through the door and just laugh in his face, but no one came. No one burst through the door to bind his feet too and tell him to give up because his friend was dead and there was no way he was ever getting out of there again.

But then he heard it.

“Jack?” A very, very faint voice that Jack was sure he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t as close to the wall as he was, but he could feel the relief flood over him. “Jack, ’s that you?”

He swore the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He didn’t care that he was trapped, he didn’t care that he probably hadn’t eaten in ages, and he didn’t care that he was probably never getting out of there.

He finally had something to hold on to.

“Race, oh my god it’s me. I’s here. I’s right here,” he rambled breathlessly. Dragging himself as close to the wall as he practically could. His arms were dragged straight back behind him, his wrists burning with pain, but none of that seemed to bother him.

He took a breath, still in disbelief that he wasn’t alone. Race was here. Was was still here. He was alive. He was alive and right on the other side of the wall and Jack felt like he could finally breathe again.

“I…I’s so sorry, Antonio,” he sniffled, not bothering to try to wipe his face as he watched the puddle of tears beneath his face get bigger and bigger. “I’s so sorry, I dragged ya’ into’ this whole mess wit’ tha’ strike n’ everythin’, n’ now you’s stuck up in ‘ere wit’ me n’ I’s sorry but I don’t think I can keep thinkin’ we’s gonna’ get outta’ this place.”

Jack sat through silence for a few moments, nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears.

“I know,” Race’s quiet voice spoke up after what felt like the longest comfortable silence they could bear. “As long as you’s here, that’s okay wit’ me, Jackie.”

 

* * *

 

Skip was mad. All Snyder had done was take her back to his office where she had signed in all those months ago. He was sitting in front of her, simply flipping through paperwork while Skip sat in an old wooden chair, shifting in her seat to make the wood creak.

“Please, jus’ tell me where ya’ took ‘em!” She burst out, tired of sitting in silence. “I don’ wanna’ do this anymore, jus’ tell me!”

Snyder sighed and pulled out a single folder from the bundle he had and laid it down on the desk between them.

“Amelia, darling, I’s goin’ ta’ tell ya’ about somethin’ ya’ proudly don’t wanna’ know. That Jack Kelly you’s taken so well to…well, jus’ read up,” the man spoke, standing and dropping the file into her lap. Skip opened it tentatively, seeing the boy’s name scrawled right across the top.

_‘Jack Kelly. 17 years old.’_

Her brown eyes skimmed over the page, widening at the list of offense after offense. Stealing, loitering, trespassing, breaking and entering, and more things Skip had never even heard of before.

This…this couldn’t be Jack. At least not the same Jack she knew. The Jack she knew slept on the floor while Skip took his place on the mattress. The Jack she knew would stand up to Snyder for any of the kids in this place without a second of hesitation. The Jack she knew wasn’t a criminal. There was no way.

“Where is he?” She screamed, tossing the file onto the ground and standing up to face the man.

Snyder sneered, his crooked yellow teeth filling her stomach with disgust.

“What, you wanna’ join ‘im? I’m sure I’s got an extra set a’ chains ‘round ‘ere somewhere,” he said, Skip’s blood running cold as her jaw dropped a little.

“N-no, I…I don’-“

“Just as I thought,” he growled, circling the desk to stand behind the girl and in front of the door. “Now, I’s got some boys to check in on, so’s you better hurry your pretty little head back in tha’ main room, yeah?”

Skip chewed on her lip, contemplating her options before she stood up and left without another word.

The walk down the corridor was almost otherworldly as she creaked open the main door and a whole room full of kids snapped their heads up to her. There were few strangers to the fact that Snyder had never hurt Skip in the near-six months that she had been in the refuge. Most kids would stand up for themselves enough to receive a beating in at least the first week, but Skip never did. She had the attitude of anyone else that had ever been in there, but no matter what she did, Snyder would never lay a hand on her.

So when she returned to the room after standing up to the man yet again without a single scratch, the collective group quickly returned to what they were doing. Skip crossed the room back to the window ledge, pressing her legs up on the wall as she leaned her head against the bars, watching the fire escape carefully. The slow cycle of people walking down the street was almost mesmerizing as she stared in complete silence for ages.

It was almost midway through the day when she felt the window start rattling. The sound of creaking and shaking metal broke her from her trance-like fascination and Skip was anxiously backing off the window ledge. She could see someone climbing carefully up the stairs, but she ducked behind the adjacent wall before she could tell who it was.

What if it was Jack? What if he broke out? What if he was coming back to get her? What if he came to rescue her?

The thought seemed almost too good to be true, but she let herself hope for the best as she heard the sliding of fabric against the metal grate flooring. A few taps on the window and she peeked her head around the corner, already fantasizing about who else it could be.

But this was someone she definitely didn’t know. He had short, dark hair that curled around the edges of his cap. A faded red shirt with the sleeves cut off covered his tan body and worn gray suspenders ran across his chest. Everything about him was screaming ‘bad’ but Skip took one look at his face and saw something completely different.

She took her seat back on the window ledge, working from the inside as the boy began to open the window. His dark brown eyes had bags around them, the lack of sleep blatantly displayed in his features, but Skip simply stared.

“Whaddya’ want, kid?” The boy grumbled, sighing heavily as he looked past her into the room.

“Well uh,” she stammered, unsure of what to do without her friends behind her. “Are ya’…are ya’ here for Jack?”

The boy shifted a little, an unsure smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, sure. Somethin’ like that,” he chuckled dryly. “Jus’ have ‘em come ‘ere, will ya?”

“Oh, uh, they ain’t ‘ere anymore,” she mumbled, afraid to meet his eyes after everything that Snyder had said.

The boy seemed to take great offense to that, rolling his eyes and gripping the bars over the window as his eyes searched the room.

“Answer me, kid,” he whispered, his voice hushed yet still carrying every ounce of fear the Skip felt prick her skin. “Where’d they go? Where’s Race?”

She felt her breath hitch as she shrunk back a little.

“He, um…he n’ Jack…Snyder took ‘em. He took ‘em away somewhere, but I dunno’ where,” Skip shuddered, her own anxiety spilling out. “They’s been gone all mornin’! I-I tried ta’ get ‘im ta’ tell me where they was, but I jus’ sent me back!”

The boy stared down at his hands for a long time. He picked at some dried blood on his knuckles and Skip was sure she heard a little sniffle.

“Are…are ya’ okay?” She spoke softly, assuming this guy was at least a friend of Race’s, if not Jack’s too. She could probably trust him. Hopefully.

The guy quickly brushed his face, sniffling some more before he sat up again, blinking away his red eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’ worry ‘bout me, kid,” he answered simply. “My, uh…my name’s Spot. I…I’s gonna’ help ya’.”

Skip smiled a little at that. At least someone here was brave enough to do something for once.

“Good,” she finished. “I head Jack tellin’ they’s otha’ friends yesterday that he thinks Race ain’t got much time left ’fore things get real bad, so’s we better’ get on it!”

The words didn’t seem to phase her much, almost as if she didn’t understand the darkness of the things she had just said.

“H-he…what?” Spot’s tone was entirely different. He was terrified as Skip looked back at him. His face went pale and his lip quivered and she instantly panicked. Had she said the wrong thing? She was just telling Spot exactly what Jack had told their other friends.

“Yeah, he’s, uh, been real sick accordin’ ta’ Jack,” she explained, watching as she just seemed to make things worse and worse.

Spot seemed to be panicking even worse than she was.

“Wha-fuck, uh, what’s ya’ name, kid?” He stumbled over his words, shaking like a leaf as his knuckles turned white from gripping the bars so tightly.

“Skip,” she mumbled quietly, confusion, fear, and anger all swirling through her head.

“Right, okay Skip, here’s what we’s gonna’ do,” he started. “I’s gonna get a coupla’ my guy ta’ steal some tools. We’s gonna’ start pryin’ off these here bars. As soon as we’s got the bars off, I’s gonna’ sneak in n’ we’s gonna’ break ‘em out, n’ then-“

“No!” Skip burst out, starling Spot slightly. “No, I…I tried that. He checks tha’ window every night when he puts everybody ta’ bed. He’d find out too easy, we’s gotta’ do it from tha’ inside.”

Spot did not look very pleased with that idea.

“Nah, there’s gotta’ be some otha’ way, I can’t jus’ leave ‘im, I can’t-“ He stopped, a pained sound breaking through his stream of consciousness speech with something that sounded so, so terrified. “Fuck this, I’s gonna’ get ‘im out, I need ta’ get in ‘ere. I’s jus’ gonna’ get myself caught n’ bust ‘im out.”

He turned towards the fire escape stairs, but Skip launched her hand through the bars, grabbing the boy’s wrist.

“Wait! Jus’…wait, please. I…I think I's got an idea how we's can do this.”

* * *

Keeping track of time in complete darkness was proving to be increasingly difficult. Race wasn't sure just how long he had been alone, but he hoped it wasn't long. Without any light, it was hard to keep his eyes open, and the mind-numbing aches throughout his body didn't help much either. He was in and out of sleep every few minutes. 

He hoped Jack wouldn't do what he did. He had tried to be the hero for Crutchie and look where that got him. 

Not that he regretted it! He'd take this position for any of his brothers, but if anything happened to him, he knew the guilt would eat that boy alive. He knew it would ruin Jack. He knew how badly it would destroy him if Jack ever had a chance at getting out of there without him. Still, he probably wouldn't even take it if he did. 

And poor Albert. God, he had yelled at Race as he dove after the bulls. He told Race it would be a bad idea. That Crutchie knew his way out of the refuge and he'd be fine, but Race didn't listen. Race never listened. 

And Fuck, if he never saw Spot again...there wasn't a single kid in Manhattan that would feel more guilty. He knew the guilt of not joining the strike would tear Spot apart, no matter how much good it did for his borough. He wouldn't care. For fuck's sake, he told Race he  _loved him._

He loved him. 

It was unreal. Spot Conlon, the boy who Albert warned him would probably throw him off the Brooklyn Bridge the first time they 'went out' together. Spot Conlon, the boy with the unsurmountable fortress around his heart that not a single person had been able to break since he was a kid. Spot Conlon, who led the borough with the highest rate of new kids brought off the streets per month. Spot Conlon, who let Race sell on his turf for years just so they could go to the Sheepshead afterwards. 

Hell, even Race felt a little bit guilty for getting himself caught. It was his fault for letting himself get close to people. If he just sold his papes and kept his mouth shut, there wouldn't be a single person to worry about. He would be sitting in that cell without a single fear of how the outside world would take it. 

But none of that felt as good as seeing the smiles on his friends' faces. None of that felt like the blossoming pride of the day Jack asked him to be his second in command. Nothing was as sweet as the young nights comparing freckles with Crutchie's, trying to deduce who had more. Nothing would ever make him smile the way his and Albert's never-ending banter did. And nothing,  _nothing_ , would ever compare to those three words that Spot uttered that first night. 

Those three words that filled his heart with weak hope as he drifted off to sleep again.

* * *

Jack wasn't sure what he could do. Race had stopped talking what felt like ages ago. He was alone. With no one to talk to, it was almost like the seriousness of the situation started to become real. 

It was real. He was in the refuge again. Race was in the refuge. They were there together...and now they weren't. 

It couldn't be real. He refused to accept that that boy was dead. It was horrible to keep telling himself something that he was almost sure, deep down, wasn't true. Race was gone and it would be real the second Snyder opened the door at the end of the room.

So he waited. He wasn't sure if he just wanted to get it over with or if he was hoping Snyder would kill him too, but the moment that door finally opened, he knew that definitely wasn't what he was expecting. 

* * *

When Snyder came back, Skip had everything planned out. She wasn't sure why she trusted this Spot guy so much, but she definitely couldn't do this on her own, so right now he was her only option. 

He would be back to deliver breakfast first thing in the morning and likely take a kid or two with him. She knew she was probably on thin ice after the day before, but honestly, she didn't care. She would fight tooth and nail if it meant she got out of that room. It was the only way.

So, as the huge metal door creaked open that morning, she was flying off the bed and up to meet the man. She plastered the most furious look she could muster on her face and waited until after he set out the small platter of rations.

"Ahh, mornin' sweetheart," the man greeted her, making Skip slightly sick to her stomach at the affectionate name. 

"I wanna' see Jack," she spat, not wasting a single second. Snyder looked surprised for a moment but then he took in Skip's obvious anger and let a small smile creep onto his disgustingly evil face. 

"Oh, do ya'? What, ya' finally ready ta' give 'im a piece a' ya' mind?" Skip nodded, the same deep-set frown still painting her face. Snyder turned, leading her out of the room with a hand on her upper back as she glanced down at the ring of keys on his belt, jingling with every step. She was almost confused when he stopped at one of the rooms down the hallway just outside where she had been seconds ago, but then it hit her. Here. They were right outside the whole time. 

Snyder pulled out his keyring, taking off a single key as he handed the rest of the loop to Skip and unlocked the door. She looked through the ring with minimal interest until she saw Jack. 

He looked awful. He curled back against the wall as far as he could, squinting and shielding his face from the light coming from the hallway. He was sickly thin, covered in bruises and dirt, and his wrists were wrapped in metal, holding him back against the wall. 

She instantly pulled a key off the ring as Snyder closed the door behind them. It was small, no longer than the length of her hand, but the only reason she knew it was this one was the disgusting splotch of dried blood covering it. She knew the man wasn't watching so she rushed to Jack, tucking the key in one of his hands before standing back up.

"Jack, you...ya' lied ta' me," she whimpered, her face showing not a single sign of anything other than excitement and hope. "Ya' said I could trust ya', but...how can I? You's a criminal!"

Jack's face was nothing but confusion. 

"I thought I could trust ya', but ya' lied! You's a liar Jack Kelly!" She could feel her smile widening as Jack carefully fiddled with the key in his hands. Skip raised her voice as she kept going, hoping to muffle any sounds of Jack unlocking his restraints. "You's nothin' but a dirty street rat! I can't trust ya' wit' nothin'!"

He kept his arms behind his back, mouthing the word 'one' as he switched to the next chain. The moment he heard the click, Skip just yelled at the top of her lungs in fake frustration. Jack almost burst out laughing, but instead, he gently laid all of the metal pieces back on the ground and wiggled his wrists, the joints cracking and stretching. 

"Alright, ya' good kid?" Snyder chuckled, stepping forward to place a hand on the girl's shoulder. 

Skip smiled one more time at Jack, nodding at him as she gestured to Snyder with her hand and they were golden. 

Jack pressed himself off the ground, jabbing his legs at Snyder's knees and sweeping the man off his feet. The man let out a harsh yell as his back fell hard against the concrete floor, cracking and filling Jack with pride. He didn't care one bit if he broke that man's back just then. Nothing could possibly compare to the pain he had put dozens and dozens of innocent kids through for decades. 

So the two kids were on the run, slamming the door shut behind them with Snyder inside and they were finally free. Skip tossed the keyring to Jack as the boy frantically worked away at the room right beside his. He was half a dozen different keys in when the lock finally clicked and he froze. God, he didn't know what he'd do if he opened that door and saw something he knew he wouldn't be able to handle.

"Jack...?" Skip stood beside the boy, watching him carefully as his hand hovered above the doorknob. His fingers were shaking as they slowly curled around the metal. "Jack, he's gonna' be okay, we jus' gotta' get outta' 'ere."

Jack seemed to shake off whatever thoughts he was entranced in and flung open the door.

And there he was. 

Race was curled up on the floor, his back to Jack and Skip, and he looked so impossibly small for a kid as tall as he was. Jack practically flung himself onto the ground, sliding on his knees to situate himself beside the boy as he quickly rolled him over onto his back. Jack felt so incredibly sick just looking at him. 

His cheeks were hollow, much like Jack's own, and the chain of bruises that never seemed to end only seemed to get darker and darker. His eyes were closed softly and his lips were barely parted, but the chapped skin was bleeding in places and he couldn't even bring himself to look down at the boy's chest. Jack raised a trembling hand to the boy's neck, pressing his fingers gingerly to find a pulse, but he could barely keep his hands long enough to tell the difference between the boy's pulse or Jack's own pounding heartbeat. 

Still, he held his breath for just as second and a faint string of beats pounded through his fingers. Jack, for once in his life, didn't try to hold back his tears. 

"C'mon kid," he whispered, a relieved smile covering his face as tears streamed across his lips. "C'mon Racer, we's gettin' out a' here."

Race still didn't stir. Jack shook him by the shoulders just slightly. His head lolled from side to side. Jack thought he might throw up. 

He choked out another sob. "C'mon Higgins, I know you's still wit' me, I know you's still got it in ya', jus' _please_."

Skip carefully took all of the keys off the keyring, tossing the loop to the ground as she slid them all into her pocket. She would leave the boys be as she did one last thing. 

* * *

Jack felt like he was in limbo. They were so close to getting out, there was nothing left stopping them, but then...then there was. Sure, he could just scoop Race up no problem and carry him out of there, but he knew Race wanted this just as fiercely as he did. He knew that boy would've wanted to see them walk out of there together. To do the impossible. 

He at least had to keep trying. 

"Antonio I swear, I ain't leavin' unless you's leavin' wit' me. We's gonna' walk outta' those there doors together, me n' you's. We's gonna' do it jus' like you said, but ya' gotta' wake up, kid," he mumbled, brushing some of the boy's hair out of his face. He just wanted his baby brother to be okay. "Race, please, jus' do somethin'. Jus' open ya' eyes or somethin', jus' let me know you's okay,  _please_."

And he did. Slowly but surely, Race pried his eyes open to look up at Jack hovering above him and there was the slightest hint of a smile on his face.   
  
"I's dead, right?" A groggy and hoarse voice whispered, and Jack had to bite back a laugh. he buried his face in his hands, thanking every possible divinity before sliding his arms around the boy's shoulders and knees as he lifted him gently and held him to his chest. They were okay. They were getting out of there and they were going to be okay. 

"Nah, not quite, kid," Jack sighed, taking a second to breathe as he finally looked around him. Two tiny rooms, one with light, one with chains, and one little girl that somehow found a way to do what they had given up trying to do. 

Race sighed, shifting a little in Jack's hold, but gripped onto the boy's shirt with one hand. "Good."

The left the room, Race shielding his eyes in Jack's shoulder as they slowly adjusted to seeing light again. Jack followed the hallway until he saw Skip standing outside the cell Jack had been locked in. There was a tiny piece of paper in her hands and she could barely take her eyes off of it. 

"Hey, Skipper, ya' ready ta' go?" Jack asked softly, giving the girl a small smile of reassurance.

She nodded, tucking the paper into her pocket. "Yeah, I already let tha' rest a' tha' kids out. I jus' wanted ta' grab one last thing."

Jack nodded, shifting Race in his arms so the boy latched his legs around Jack's waist and held on with his arms around his neck. 

"Good. C'mon, let's get outta' 'ere, shall we?" Skip beamed to match Jack's grin and she stood to leave when the door swung open again. 

Snyder lunged, still not standing, but he grabbed the back of Skip's shirt and she screamed. Jack froze, tightening his grip on Race as he turned around and stood his ground. 

"Get ya' hands off a' her," he spat, feeling the pride bubbling in his stomach from how fiercely he had sworn to protect the boy curled up in his arms. Race was his little brother, and after all the things she had done for the two of them, Skip was a better little sister than he could've possibly asked for. "You let 'er go n' we ain't gonna' call tha' bulls. Jus' let go n' we leave quietly. Won't even tell a soul what ya' did, we's jus' gonna' go."

But Snyder only yanked once more, pulling the girl back as she fell. 

Jack knew he had three options. He could run, get Race and himself out of there as fast as he could and never look back. He could let Race down against the wall, get Skip back, and hope that even one of them would make it out alive.

Or he could find a way to get everything he wanted. 

"Race, can ya' stand if I promise it won't be long?" He whispered into the boy's ear, feeling the nod against his shoulder as confirmation as he gently let Race's feet hit the ground. He steadied himself on the wall beside him and nodded to Jack that he was okay. 

Jack, however, was already on his way to get that girl back.

"I tried ta' get ya' outta' this tha' easy way. My offer still stands if ya' jus' let 'er go, but I ain't afraid ta' give ya' what I's been wantin' ta do since ya' first threw me in 'ere when I was seven. I ain't afraid a you's anymore, old man," he admitted, a confident smile tugging at his lips as he saw Skip's terrified face brighten. 

But the man didn't budge. 

"I need 'er," he slurred, likely still delirious from when Jack knocked him out not even half an hour ago. "I neva' even hurt 'er."

Jack scoffed, kicking the man in the stomach to see if he might let go, but he simply took Skip by the wrist instead. She winced as he tightened his grip, surely leaving what would soon become a quite painful bruise. 

He glanced down at his own wrists, still bloody and bruised themselves, and kicked again. 

"Why? What tha' hell makes ya' think I's gonna' leave 'er here wit' you's?" Jack hissed, continuing his kicks across the man's body. "She don't deserve ta' be stuck 'ere forever! None a' them kids do!"

But Snyder only exhaled shakily, clutching the girl tighter. 

"She's got parents. They's one a' tha' richest in tha' city," he spat, staring daggers at the boy. "Tha' only reason I ain't neva' hurt 'er is 'cause I's expectin' a hefty reward if they's eva' gonna' want they's little baby girl back."

Skip had tears running down her cheeks and Jack was ready to just knock that man right out again, but he couldn't risk him hurting Skip before Jack could even do it. 

_"Well maybe they's don't even want me back!"_

Skip's wail echoed through the hallway. She refused to meet Jack's eyes, sniffling as her tears collected in a puddle on the ground below her face. 

"Maybe...tha' whole reason I left 's 'cause they don't even want me," she whimpered, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "They didn't want me when they Will instead, n' afta' they lost him, they wanted me even less. He's tha' one they wanted. Or...I guess I  _thought_ they wanted."

Skip took a shaky breath, sniffling slightly. 

"They ain't gonna' pay you nothin'. I don't need them anymore," she smiled weakly, looking up at Jack. "'N they don't need me."

Just when Jack was ready to let all hell break loose, the main doors burst open and he couldn't believe his eyes. 

Spot Conlon, leading a whole gang of Brooklyn kids, burst through the door with fists flying left and right until Jack looked up and Snyder was gone, the cell was being locked shut, and Spot held Skip tightly on his hip. His eyes, however, were locked on Race's. The taller boy was wobbling on his feet and Jack was afraid he was about to collapse at any second. 

"Get 'im. I got tha' girl, jus' don't lose him," Spot spoke with a sort of steely assertion, but Jack could still hear the fear in his voice. He nodded, carefully throwing one of Race's arms over his shoulders as he held him by the waist, keeping as much weight off of the boy's own legs as he could. 

"Jus' hold on, kid. We's gettin' out. We's almost there, jus' hold on a little longer," Jack spoke in a shaky whisper, his eyes watering. Race replied with a disapproving murmur as he shook his head gently against Jack's arm. "I know it hurts, Racer. I know you's tired, but jus' keep goin' for me, please. Do it to say we made it outta' here when we all thought it was gonna' be impossible. Make it outta' here jus' ta' say you's strong enough ta' do it, because I know you are. You's tha' strongest goddamn kid I's ever known Antonio Higgins n' I ain't leavin' 'ere unless ya' do it wit' me, okay?"

Race looked up, his drooping eyelids being held open so painstakingly as he let small tears flow, and nodded. He smiled in a way that was so small and so pained that Jack knew it wasn't real yet, but as they stood in that doorway and started down those steps, he saw the dimples deepen on his cheeks and he saw that boy smile for real as they hobbled out the front doors of the refuge, together or not at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being so patient while i took so long with this! i really like how this turned out and i hope this satisfies all of your requests for a sequel:) i had so much fun writing these two and i will hopefully do the same in future works as well
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are what keeps me writing and especially with something that took me so long to write, i would really love to hear all of your feedback! 
> 
> also check me out on tumblr @tony-higgins to submit requests or see more details into my writing process!


	3. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the finale
> 
> i'm finally done hurting these poor kids, but not without making it a million times worse and then bringing in even more kids to hurt whoops
> 
> bonus* count the infinity war references, there's so many rip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER!!! DON'T READ THIS IF YOU ARE DEFINITELY GOING TO READ. THIS IS FOR THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW IF THEY SHOULD READ/NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE TRIGGERS ARE
> 
> just in case any of y'all aren't cool with that, this whole chapter is almost purely a death scene so I won't judge if anyone doesn't want to read this
> 
> also tw for a lot blood, sickness, panic attacks(kinda), really sad/scared dialogue that could be traumatic because a lot of this stems from avengers infinity war that left me emotionally broken so if that traumatized you, this is inspired by that whoops

Guilt isn't something real. It's not physical, you can't touch it or get rid of it, but it's always there. It's almost as if it's an entity of its own. Guilt is a force that eats you up from the inside, clawing away at every last piece of hope that you had until it's gone and the only thing left is the knowledge that there's always something else you could've done.

The moment that Jack and Race walked into the lodging house, everything was different. None of the other newsies dared to say a word. They just sat there staring as Spot set Skip down on Davey's lap before rushing to the two. He slid an arm around Race's waist, supporting the boy a little more as they walked into a small room off the main hallway. The two older boys gently maneuvered Race onto one of the beds, closing the door behind them.

Jack finally let himself breathe as he sat down on the old, wood floors. The cracking paint on the walls, the rumble of the old plumbing running throughout, and all the things that reminded him that, as completely insane as it felt, he was home. He was home and the strike was over. He was here and so was Race. They were home. He and Spot carefully made sure the boy was comfortable before he heard the door behind them creak open.

Spot turned around expectantly like any regular person would've.

Jack immediately dove in front of Race, keeping the boy tucked behind him. He shut his eyes fiercely as if prepping for impact, but nothing came.

"Jack?" That wasn't Snyder. That wasn't Snyder, or one of the bulls, or a guard, or anyone that would ever hurt him.

He cracked his eyes open just the slightest amount and Davey was standing terrified in the doorway. His chest felt tight just looking at the boy so afraid of him, but he couldn't help the relief that flooded over him.

"Fuck," he muttered, running his hands through his hair as he felt his heartbeat begin to slow. He stood, wobbling a little on tired legs, and collapsed into the taller boy's arms. "Dave I's so sorry."

His tears poured down his cheeks as he clung tightly for dear life. "I thought I'd never see you again, Jack," Davey's voice shook as he spoke into Jack's hair. "God, I thought I almost lost you."

Their heartbeats were beating perfectly in sync, Jack finally letting himself relax even for just a second.

"I don' wanna' talk, I don' wanna' talk 'bout it, Dave," he breathed, his voice wavering a little as the other ran his fingers up and down Jack's spine.

"That's okay," Davey quickly assured him. "I won't make you talk about it until you're ready. Don't even worry about it."

Jack let out a shaky exhale and tightened his grip on Davey's waist.

"Come on, Jackie, let's go sit down. We can talk about this later, but let's get you to bed for a little while-"

"No!" Jack interrupted, holding onto Davey tight enough to probably leave a bruise, but the boy didn't make any attempt to move him. "I...I can't leave, I-I can't leave 'im."

" 'S fine, Kelly. I got 'im, jus' take care a' ya'self," Spot spoke up, his normally steely gaze now just as afraid as Jack's, a strange sort of comfort to the boy. "Let Dave take care a' ya', I'll be sure ta' let ya' know if anythin' happens, I promise."

Jack hesitated for a moment before he nodded against Davey's chest and the latter led him upstairs to the rooftop.

The silence of the increasingly emptying room was deafening. Spot felt like he could finally relax a little, though, as he closed the door and sat down on the edge of the small cot. He gently ran his fingers through Race's hair, trying as hard as he could not to think about how high his fever felt against his hand.

He couldn't lose Race. He just couldn't.

He took a chance on that kid, really opened up to someone for the first time since he'd been living on the streets, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to do it again if anything happened to that boy. So he couldn't lose him. He couldn't watch the one person he truly loved slip through his fingers without ever being able to do anything.

So that was why he took up a small collection from the kids in Brooklyn, he made some bets at the Sheepshead, and even took an extra few papes every day so he could get that boy a proper doctor. A little voice in the back of his head was warning him that it was hopeless. It was screaming not to waste his time on something so doomed, but he didn't care. Besides, it was for Race. Even if it was for nothing, it wouldn't be wasted. Any effort he made would be worth it for every single day they got to spend together.

And as he sat in that room for days just talking to the boy and waiting for him to wake up, he began to realize things. Like all the years that he had taken for granted. He never once sat down and thought about what his life would be like without Race sneaking in through his bedroom window every night. He never imagined what it would be like to sell alone at the races, never once daring to risk his money on the bets. Hell, he never thought he'd lose Race to the refuge even for just a few days! They spent years hiding what was then only an innocent friendship with Race somehow finding the means to sneak back and forth between Manhattan and Brooklyn hundreds of times.

Race never got caught. Not doing anything. He stole Finch's slingshot? No one would ever know. He snagged one of Henry's combs? Hell if anyone else knew! The refuge never even seemed like a problem until all of a sudden there he was.

Spot spent that night and many others not leaving that tiny room for longer than it took to go to the bathroom or to grab Race a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen.

Two days had gone by when Race finally started getting antsy. Hell, he hadn't seen his friends in ages at that point! Jack and Davey had been paranoid, not letting anyone into the room without showering first, swearing that if there was any way to prevent any more germs from getting in there, they would take full advantage of it.

But then Race asked to see Crutchie.

They all knew he was going to eventually. Crutchie had even been asking Jack if he could ever since the boys got back, but it was just too risky at first.

Until they thought, maybe it wasn't.

After all that time, Crutchie would finally get to see the boy that literally almost died just on the off chance he would save him. He wasn't sure if he could even bring himself to do it.

It wasn't until December twelfth. The worst day.

Everyone had thought things were getting better. They all thought the refuge was behind them. The strike was over, the newsies throughout the city were living better than ever before, and it seemed like that meant Manhattan too.

But that was before Race seemed to stop getting better. Sure, anything had been better than that cramped little cell in the refuge and it did wonders at first just to be back in the lodging house, but soon enough, there wasn't much else that fresh air and a bed could fix.

And that was when Jack started working harder. He took at least an extra fifty papes every day just in an attempt to get some more food for the boy at the end of the day.

And then Spot stopped leaving Manhattan. He would sell some papes through Manhattan's circulation if Race was asleep, and if he wasn't, he refused to leave his side.

It was awful not knowing whether anything they were doing was making a difference at all.

Most of Manhattan's boys weren't even allowed into the room where they were keeping Race. That is, unless he specifically asked for them. They claimed it was too dangerous and they couldn't risk the chance of making his infection worse by bringing in any unnecessary germs, but Race knew the other side to it.

They didn't the boys to see him.

Race couldn't really see what he looked like, but he knew it had to be bad. He knew however bad it was, it was enough to scare the kids, and that was all the answer he needed.

So he played along and agreed when he needed to that letting any extra germs in was a risk no one was willing to take.

But that morning of December twelfth, Jack came into Race's small room to try and get some fluids into him. Spot, who had refused to leave the boy's side yet again, was still asleep against the wall by the bed, his hand in Race's.

Race sat up slightly as he heard the boy walk in, accepting Jack's glass of water and sipping it slowly. The lukewarm drink still felt like heaven on his dry throat. He had gone a few days without speaking more than a few instances, but every breath was like sandpaper in his throat and he could barely fill his lungs from what felt like a pile of bricks on his chest.

Jack looked like a trainwreck. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and that didn't help the darkening bags under his eyes either. He never smiled anymore, not real ones anyway. He was too busy driving himself insane with guilt. 

"Jackie," Race rasped, grateful that the boy was still close enough so he wouldn't have to strain his voice much. Jack looked up and met his gaze, a mutual sadness behind their eyes for the other's state. "D'ya think Crutchie's ready ta' see me?"

Jack twisted up the corner of his lips almost like the signature smirks that always used to paint his face, but this wasn't the same. But he nodded, shrugging his shoulders. 

"I know ya' wanna' talk to 'im, he jus'...he's tryna' take tha' blame for all a' this. He's jus' scared, 's all. I's sure if I told 'im you's real eager ta' see 'im, he'd give in," Jack spoke with something akin to fondness in his tone when he spoke about his friend, almost like he felt the same.

He did, Race knew he did. Jack just wouldn't let himself admit it, but he felt responsible. He tortured himself with that guilt just the same. 

"Thanks," Race mumbled, a small smile creeping its way out in hopes of reassuring the other. 

Jack nodded once more, bowing his head as he stood, carefully closing the door behind him. 

As soon as Jack was gone, Race squeezed Spot's hand gently, watching as the boy began to stir. God, he really was nearly as bad as Jack. He instantly sat up on his knees, switching his position to be able to assess the other. The panic in his eyes was almost natural at that point as Spot quickly feared for the worst. 

Race smiled weakly, reaching up as he cupped Spot's cheek in his palm. The latter chuckled awkwardly, still slightly uncomfortable by the affection. 

"I's okay, Spotty. Ya' don't gotta' worry all tha' time, I ain't goin' nowhere," Race whispered, softening the other's expression. Spot covered Race's hand on his face, leading it over slightly as he quickly kissed the boy' palm. 

"I ain't gonna' stop worryin'," he stated, Race nodding as he knew it was true. "But I'll try."

The other smiled, his baby blue eyes once again holding a sparkled the way they used to. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, leaning over the edge of the bed as he bent his head forward onto Spot's shoulder. He tilted his chin just enough for his chapped lips to meet the other's tanned neck and he felt his pulse beating.

Spot ducked down, his fingers curling gently around the other's shirt collar as he found Race's lips and kissed him for real that time. It felt like it had been so long. So,  _so_ , long. The hand holding his shirt slid back up to hold the base of his neck and Race tossed an arm over Spot's shoulder. They couldn't stop smiling. It was like a trance had suddenly changed everything, even for just a moment. 

For just a moment, Race didn't feel like he was breaking apart. He didn't feel like every touch on his body was a burn. For once since he had left, he felt like he could breathe right and his headache wasn't making him dizzy, this time it was just the giddiness in his heart that made him feel like he was floating. 

"I love you," Race murmured breathlessly as they broke apart, leaning their foreheads together. "I nearly lost my head in tha' refuge  afta' ya' said that, Spotty. I...I thought I wouldn't eva' be able ta' say it back, but I love ya'. I love ya' so much."

Spot had tears in his eyes when he leaned back. His hands were shaking as he quickly reached for Race's.

"Wait, did I...did I do somethin'? Spot, baby, I's sorry, I didn't mean ta', I swear, I jus'-"

Spot kissed him again, holding the back of the boy's neck as Race's surprise slowly turned into pleasure and he relaxed, winding his arms around Spot's shoulders. 

"Don't ya' dare apologize," Spot grumbled breathily, only pausing for a second before diving back in. "I love ya' too, you goddamn idiot."

Race chucked, freezing as he heard the door creak open. He pulled away, looking up towards the door as his face went beet red. Crutchie was standing in the doorway, a mix of relief and embarrassment on his equally-red face. 

'H-hey Crutch," Race spoke up, his voice cracking and definitely not helping his embarrassment. 

Crutchie smiled, shifting in place awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

"I, uh...I can go if ya' want," he suggested, an uncomfortable forced smile on his face. 

"No! No, it's...it's okay, we's jus' sayin' goodbye, right Spotty?" Race nudged his boyfriend's shoulder as the latter only gave a small sigh of disappointment. Race glared a little, but Spot just stood, bending down to quickly kiss the other's forehead, and he reluctantly left. "Thanks for comin'. I, um...I didn't really know what ta' say. Still don't really."

Crutchie crossed the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Race as he listened to his friend ramble. 

"Oh, it's okay," Crutchie quickly assured him. "I didn't really...know what ta' say either, I guess."

They didn't speak for a moment. Crutchie couldn't speak as soon as he heard Race cough. He watched the boy clutch his hands to his chest as his throat rasped and Crutchie felt sick. 

"I can't," he mumbled, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. "I can't jus'... _sit here_."

As Crutchie stood, dragging himself over to the door, he looked back at Race and the heartbroken look on his face said it all. 

"Char-"

" _I fuckin' did this ta' you_ ," he breathed, his hands gripping at his face and hair as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. Race tried to stand up, immediately wobbling like a foal on his stick-thin legs. He hadn't tried to stand without help in ages. He should've known he'd be in a sheepish heap on the ground within a few seconds. Crutchie tossed his crutch to the side as he tried to catch the other, but, as he should _definitely_ know after years of using his crutch, he too, found himself on the ground. 

And then Race laughed. It was small and hoarse, but it was a laugh. Crutchie looked up from frantically trying to make sure the boy was okay and felt himself relax. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, blushing a little as he brushed away the tears that had been spilling down his cheeks just moments ago. 

 Race smiled sheepishly, folding his legs underneath his body as he picked himself up off the floor. He opened his arms, gesturing for the younger boy to come closer as he pushed himself across the floor to hug the other tightly. Race winced at first at the tightening of his skin that stung his chest, but it soon began to fade into numbness and he let himself focus on making sure that his friend was okay. 

"I's so sorry," Crutchie mumbled into Race's shoulder, the shakiness returning to his voice. Race forced out a weak chuckle as he curled his arm up around the boy, ruffling his hair a little. "I's so sorry, this is all my fault, I...I should'a been tha' one in there, not you's. We don't...we don't  _trade lives_."

Race felt his heart fall through his chest as it shattered on the floor. 

"W-we don't  _trade lives_ for each other," Crutchie shuddered, gripping onto the back of Race's shirt in tight fistfuls. "Y-ya' can't give ya'self up jus' for me, I don'-"

"Crutch, I ain't tradin' my life for anythin'," Race interrupted. His eyes were tried and puffy, but stern. Not a hint of anything but honesty. "I wasn't gonna' let ya' in there, I know it ain't a place you's eva' gonna' get out of, so's I figured I'd give it a shot. Ya' know me, I's too stubborn ta' let 'em keep me locked up for long. It's jus' a matter a' days b'fore I bust outta' this joint too."

Crutchie giggled a little, redness filling his cheeks. He let his smile stay that time as Race coughed again, this time a little harsher, but Crutchie tried not to worry as much. Race was still there. he was still the annoying asshole who wouldn't let anyone keep him cooped up for long and before Crutchie could even blink, he'd be back on the streets jogging over to Brooklyn like nothing ever happened. He knew it. At the time felt so real he could see it when he shut his eyes. 

So he did it again. 

That night, just before the sun went down, Crutchie looked up from his book. With more convincing than the boys would like to admit, Crutchie was able to get them to agree to let him keep watch that night. He was almost certain Spot was probably still sitting right outside the door and Jack was probably sitting in the common room right next door with his ear to the wall, but he didn't care. It had only been about half an hour since Crutchie came back, but he was so much more relaxed than when he first showed up. Race was just drifting in and out of sleep, coughing every one in a while, and then going back to bed.

He never could've seen it coming. It didn't matter how many times Davey told him it wasn't his fault, or that he couldn't have known something was up, but he couldn't stop thinking about all the things he missed. 

It had been less than half an hour when Race started coughing and didn't stop. After a few coughs, he closed his book, rolling over onto his side. 

"Race? You okay?" He tried not to let the increasing worry show in his voice, but he could tell it was plastered all over his face as soon as Race rolled over onto his back and looked up at the other. "Oh shit, okay, j-jus' hold on a second, I's gonna' go get Jack, jus' s-stay right 'ere." Crutchie rambled, scrambling to his feet as he collected his crutch and practically flew out the door. 

Just outside the door, as they both suspected, was Spot. He dashed in right behind Crutchie as he slid to his knees, immediately looking everywhere but Race's face. 

"H-hey baby," he whispered, trying to choke back the panic in his voice as his throat went dry. God, his heart was going to beat right out of his chest if he didn't find some way to fix this. "It's gonna' be okay, I promise. I won't let anythin' happen to ya', I swear. Not ever again."

Race smiled a little, mainly just for Spot's sake, but it was there. He couldn't deny that the way Spot took Race's hand and held it to his own chest to prove he was there made him feel just a little bit better. Race opened his mouth to speak, a dry, raspy sound coming out instead as Spot quickly reached over to run his thumb over the boy's lips. 

"Shh, don't hurt ya'self, Tony. It ain't worth it, jus' save it for later," he teased at the end, a little watery smile covering up the little devilish, self-conscious voice in his head telling him there wasn't going to be a 'later'. He blocked it out. He had to.

So Race didn't speak, he just pulled his hand away from where it held Spot's against the latter's chest, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly where their fingers wound together. As he lifted their hands away, he closed his eyes softly for just a moment, taking a couple slow breaths as if he had the wind knocked out of him. His shaky inhales were painful, it was written all over his face, but he still held it back and didn't let it show. 

That made all the difference after Jack stumbled in the door, catching himself from falling on the doorframe. It was like slow motion as Jack's confused look shattered into horror. He clutched his mouth, leaning his head into the doorframe, a few seconds of hesitation, possibly disbelief, crossing his mind before he opened his eyes again and nothing had changed. Not a dream. No, not even a nightmare. 

"J-Jack?" Race spoke up, looking over Spot's shoulder as the mentioned boy moved to kneel beside Spot. 

"Yeah, kid. I's right here," he spoke, forcing his lips to curl up, but not even coming close to meeting his eyes. "I's right 'ere, jus' like I's been every step a' the way. I ain't goin' nowhere, kid."

Race managed a small smile before coughing again, this time too fast to grab a scrap of the old rags and simply coughing into his hands instead. Nothing could ever prepare the boys in that room for the look on Race's face when he pulled away his hand and blood came dripping through his fingers and dribbling down his chin. He looked dizzy, like the thought of seeing something so horrific had finally sunk it, but Spot quickly climbed around on top of the bed, seating himself right beside Race as he sat up against the wall. 

"C'mon Tony, ya' gotta' sit up, jus' come 'ere n' sit wit' me," he murmured, sliding his hands under Race's shoulders and pulling him back from behind, holding him tight against his chest. Spot wasn't sure if Race could feel his heartbeat pounding against his back, but it was there, searing and throbbing and absolutely fucking terrified. "That's it, you's okay, I got ya'."

Race winced a little as he finally reached a comfortable position, but he knew he would rather be curled up with Spot than alone in that claustrophobic little room drowning in his own blood.

"J-J-Jack?" He croaked, the aforementioned boy taking one of his hands as soon as he spoke. 

"Right 'ere, kid," Jack sighed, trying to keep the fear out of his voice to the best of his ability. 

"I don't wanna g-go," he cried, his eyes wide and full of tears as Jack froze under his gaze. "I...I's scared, Jack."

Spot's arms tightened around his boyfriend as he leaned forward, kissing the crook of the boy's neck. There was a small spot on Race's shirt where the other's tears had fallen. 

Jack couldn't move. His mind was spinning in circles and everything hurt. He _couldn't_. He couldn't just... _die_.

He had promised. Jack made a promise when he took over Manhattan that he would protect those kids and now...now he had no idea what to do anymore. He wasn't sure if he was still crying, he couldn't feel anything, just the dizziness in his head and the knife that felt like it was twisting right into his heart. 

Spot whispered something into Race's ear that only seemed to make things worse. Jack would've been the first to go after him, but for once, he couldn't bring himself to move. 

"Everythin's gonna' be fine," Spot rambled, almost as if he was trying to convince himself, rather than Race. "I ain't gonna' let anythin' happen to ya', don't ya' know that? I ain't gonna' let you go, ya' should know by now, I ain't good at giving up, Tony."

Race smiled weakly, a slight tilt of his head giving him space to bury his face into Spot's neck, rolling onto his side and giving Jack a full view of the thing that was causing this whole mess. Right there, in the middle of Race's chest, was a spot of blood seeping through the front of his shirt and dripping slowly down through the holes in the fabric. Jack felt sick. 

"I-I-I's so s-sorry," he shuddered, surprising himself that he was actually able to form words. Race looked up, his tired blue eyes meeting Jack's teary brown ones and not moving even for a second. 

Race didn't move, instead, he just reached out a hand and grabbing onto Jack's. He was shaking so much Jack wasn't sure he was even consciously moving, but the second he could, he held tighter than he thought possible. 

"J-Jackie, I ain't m-mad at ya'," Race whispered, Jack shaking his head, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to get himself to breathe easier. "I-I ain't mad at all, jus'...jus' d-don't leave m-me."

Jack shook his head again, firmer this time as he sniffled, ducking his head as he lifted their conjoined hands to his forehead. "I can't lose ya', kid. I ain't goin' anywhere, but you gotta' promise me ya' won't go neither."

Race laughed, a tiny, raspy, heartbroken laugh, and Jack blocked out every other sound. "Jack, ya' know I c-can't do that."

The latter sniffled, nodding slowly as he took shaky breaths.

"Y-yeah...," he sighed, his voice cracking as he forced out a smile without an ounce of believability. 

They could've sat like that for hours with Spot holding Race tightly as he whispered quiet sweet-nothings in his ear and Jack sat beside the bed holding onto his hand and refusing to let himself think about anything else. It was almost so perfect. It was almost as if nothing earth-shatteringly awful was happening, but then he heard the screaming. 

_"Jack! Jack Kelly I know you's in there, c'mon! Let me in! Kelly, I swear ta' god, let me see Race! I's done waitin', let me in for fuck's sake!"_

Race would recognize that voice anywhere.

"A-Albert?" His soft whisper was almost inaudible, but it was enough to raise Jack to the door and get him to open up. 

And, speak of the devil, there he was. Albert stood at the door, Skip standing beside him leading him over. She was frustrated, it was written all over her face, but she didn't falter when Jack opened the door looking like someone who'd already been to hell and back. 

"I ain't allowed in, I's sure," Skip sighed, almost as if she just wanted to say it to call Jack out. He glanced over his shoulder, but shook his head as he turned back to her.   
  
"Sorry, kiddo. I jus'...I don't want ya' ta' see this," he sighed, his voice heavier as Skip nodded, hugging him quickly before turning away.

"Tell 'im I miss 'im," she mumbled before turning away without another word. Jack looked up, his eyes meeting Alberts as the red-haired boy who always seemed to be sporting the palest skin of the group somehow seemed to have gone even paler. His face looked like he'd seen a ghost and Jack ran a hand through his hair, preparing himself before he opened the door for the boy, knowing that even if he didn't like what he saw, Albert didn't care. 

"Be careful. I...I know I don't gotta' tell ya' not ta' say anythin' too scary, but he's terrified, Al. Jus' be there for 'im," Jack spoke, the other sniffling as he stepped inside. 

"Oh god...," Albert whispered, Jack turning around as he shut the door behind them and Albert shakily stumbled into the place Jack had just been sitting. "Oh god, oh god, _oh my fucking god_ , _Race_."

"Al-"

" _No!_ _"_ He snapped, sinking to his knees beside his best friend, taking his hand just like Jack had just been doing. "N-no...ya' don't get ta' tell me how ta' do this, Jack. Not this time. I's done listening ta' you's, not when this is what comes from it."

Race looked between Jack and Albert, shrinking away from both as he moved to sit closer to Spot. He couldn't bring himself to deal with his friends fighting, especially not over him.

"Allie, c'mon, it...it ain't w-worth it," he mumbled, but Albert wasn't having it.

"No, ya' know what? No, I's done 'ere. I paid for a week 'ere n' as soon as tha' weeks done, I's out. I got a fam'ly I could stay wit', n' I's been stayin' 'ere for so long 'cause I thought I had a fam'ly 'ere too, but from everythin' I know, a fam'ly wouldn't stand for one a' they's own stuck on his fucking  _death bed_ 'cause  _you_ thought we needed a few extra pennies," Albert cried, tears spilling down his cheeks as he glared at Jack, the latter slowly backing away as he looked back and forth between Albert and Race. "I don't care what ya'  _think_ ya' could or couldn't do ta' stop it. You's still tha' one that got us all inta' this mess, n' you's always gonna' be tha' one responsible!"

The silence that followed Albert's outburst was nearly deafening.

Jack stood there frozen for ages before he simply nodded, ducked his head, and turned towards the door.

"Jack," Race spoke up, his voice breaking as the former turned back around, looking at Race, now shifting away from both Spot and Albert. "Jack, y-you promised."

He froze, his hand shaking right above the doorknob.  _He promised_. God, he had never wanted to keep a promise less in his life, but...he would do it if it was what Race wanted.

"Jackie, ya' s-said ya' w-w-wouldn't leave m-me," he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he finished, a smeared line of blood now brushed from his lip and down to his chin. Jack felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. He turned, not meeting Albert's eyes as he slid down on the end of the bed, facing the three others.

"I ain't goin' nowhere, kid. B'sides, you's ain't allowed no go nowhere either," he supplied, smirking half-heartedly. 

Race didn't respond, he simply dove back into Spot's shoulder, his shoulders shaking heavily as he coughed, the other running his hands up and down the boy's back. Race pulled away, tears pouring down his cheeks so quickly they mixed with the blood running from his lips. He frantically tried to rub as much of it off as he could, the red stains now covering the front of his shirt and his hands, not to mention the boy behind him. 

"S-s-stop," he whispered, his voice wavering as if he was dizzy, still not looking up at anything. 

"Race-"

"A-Albie, ya' g-g-gotta' g-get outta' 'ere," he slurred, looking up as he met the boy's eyes. Albert had angry tears brewing in his eyes as the horror took over his expression. "P-please."

"Wait, what? Race, what tha' hell? I can't jus'  _leave ya' here_ _!_ _"_ He grabbed for one of Race's hands, but the latter pulled away, grabbing at Jack instead. He took a deep breath, wiping the corner of his mouth once more before he spoke.

"Al, y-you's my b-b-best friend. Ya' know t-that, b-b-but I c-can't have ya' b-b-blamin' Jack. He...h-he's tha' only one that's b-b-b-been wit' me t-through this whole m-m-mess. I c-can't do this w-without 'im," he cried softly, his voice barely audible and so raspy it sounded painful just to listen to. "Albie, ya' g-gotta' let us d-d-do this. I love ya' s-so much, b-b-but I c-can't h-have ya' in 'ere."

The mere seconds between that last word and the moment Albert moved to stand up could've been hours if you asked any of the boys. But he stood anyway, leaning over as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, gripping the boy so tightly the others were afraid he might break, but Race did the same and they stayed like that for a moment before they finally began to move. 

"I really do love' ya, brother," Albert spoke sadly, the tears in his eyes now beginning to slowly fall. "I-I's so sorry."

"I k-know ya' d-do," Race smiled, his eyes genuinely crinkling at the corners. "D-don't touch any a' my f-fuckin' cigars, a-asshole."

And Albert finally smiled as he stood, walking right up to the door before he stopped, balanced on the balls of his feet and he turned his head over his shoulder, a watery smile on his face.

"No promises," he whispered, both of their smiles fading the moment he stepped out the door. 

So Race leaned back against Spot, wheezing a little like he was out of breath. 

"Kelly," Spot started, absentmindedly weaving his fingers through Race's hair as he caught Jack's attention. "Get 'im some water or somethin'."

Yeah, Jack could see it in his eyes that Spot wanted a couple minutes alone, and yeah, he could hear it in his voice that as soon as Jack left the room he would break, but he stood anyway and nodded, not saying a word as he left. He took one look back at Race to make sure he was alright with the boy stepping out for a second, but he was  _way_ too distracted by Spot and frankly, getting his attention was a situation he _definitely_ didn't want to be in.

"Tony?" Spot's voice was shy and soft as his breath nipped the back of Race's neck. He turned his head, looking up at the boy with his arms around him. A small smile appeared as their eyes finally met. "You doin' okay right now?"

Race shrugged, curling himself up a little as he looked away, resting his head under Spot's chin. 

"C'mon, T, ya' gotta' help me out 'ere. I ain't goin' anywhere, I's here ta' help ya'. I gotta' know what's wrong so's I can fix it, okay baby?" He was so soft, so gentle, it was no wonder he wanted Jack to leave first. "Please, Tony. There's gotta' be somethin' I can do ta' fix this."

Race just tightened his arms around Spot's middle, shaking his head against the other's chest.

"Race, baby, I...I ain't jus' gonna' give up on this, you...you know I can't do that," he spoke, his voice wavering like it was seconds away from breaking. 

"J-jus' hold m-m-me...please," Race mumbled, not really sure if it was even loud enough for Spot to hear, but it seemed to work because Spot just pulled him closer and ran his fingers through his hair, just like he always did whenever they were lucky enough to be alone. The silence was nice. It seemed like they were constantly slipping in and out of silence in that room, but it was nice. It was comforting the way they never  _needed_ to say anything, they were just perfectly happy laying there together. 

That is, until things  _really_ took a turn for the worst. 

Race coughed. Just once, nothing they hadn't all seen before, but then it happened again. And again. And again, and again, and again until he couldn't stop and there was blood all over his hands and dripping from his lips and he was crying and screaming with pain until Jack came running back. That moment as Jack ran in the door and Spot looked up at him with his boyfriend screaming in his arms, they knew

They were in the endgame now. 

Everything was moving in slow motion. Spot's hands gently running up and down Race's back as he coughed, Jack's footsteps as he moved to crouch back down beside the bed, even Race's own tears seemed to be falling slowly as they all carefully made sure not to scare the boy further.

"H-hey, kid," Jack spoke, placing a hand on Race's knee. He was going to put on a brave face. He was going to put on a brave face and make sure that kid knew he wasn't alone and he was going to do it no matter what was about to happen. He owed the kid that much, at least. "You...you feelin' okay right now? Ya' know, like...ya' pillows n' shit?"

Race chuckled and both of the other boys had to admit it was nice. Just seeing another genuine smile was really, really nice. He nodded and Spot slowly kissed the side of his head, where his forehead met his hair and Race leaned back against him. 

"Good ta' know I's makin' a good pillow, T," Spot said, pretending nothing happened when his voice broke as Race interrupted his sentence to cough his lungs out again into the crook of his elbow. He leaned back as he finished, his face plastered with pure exhaustion. No one should look like that after just  _coughing_. His eyelids were drooping and his cheeks were so flushed it reminded Spot of the first moment after Race kissed him for the first time and-

No. Nope, he wouldn't ruin the best day of his life by thinking about it during the worst. No way. 

"Jack?" Race asked, making Jack's heart jump into his throat for about the fiftieth time that day. "A-am...am I gonna' d-d-die?"

And there it was. The painful truth none of them had let themselves accept until that very moment. He said it. He said exactly what they were all thinking and that made it real because if Race felt it too...then they weren't just worried for nothing. So Jack ruffled his hair and pulled him in tight against his chest. Just in case he didn't get to do it again. Just in case. 

"Don't worry 'bout anythin', kid," he spoke softly, nodding to Spot who had finally, after that entire ordeal, let his tears fall. Jack knew he had been avoiding the exact same thought. "That 'aint anythin' you's gotta' worry 'bout, I promise. Me n' Spotty, we's gonna' worry 'bout that, you-...you jus' try ta' relax, yeah? Think ya' can do that, Racer?"

A shrug and a small nod between wheezes and coughs was enough of an answer to Jack and it wasn't like they would get more even if they wanted it. Race laid almost fully on Spot, resting his head against the boy's chest with an arm wrapped around his middle and the other gripping the front of Spot's shirt tightly. They could both tell he was in pain just from the way he was laying. He didn't want to say anything, Race literally never did, but this was apparently no different. Always one for pride, Race would swallow his own and wouldn't let a soul know he was anything but perfectly fine. There was no reason to hide it anymore, but old habits die hard and that was definitely a very old habit.

"H-hey, S-S-Sean?" He stammered as he spoke, not even lifting his head from off the boy's chest.

"Hmm?" 

"I's s-so t-t-tired," he whined, a hint of a yawn sneaking into the end of his words. 

Fuck. 

Spot looked at Jack and Jack looked at Spot and they both knew exactly what the other was thinking and  _hell no_. Nope. No. No way.

"Y-yeah?" God, he tried so hard to stop the tears from falling as he started to rock back and forth just a little, keeping his love securely wrapped in his arms. "W-well, I think ya' can h-hold on a little longer for me, Tony. B'esides, it-it ain't even m-midnight yet."

Race nodded, rubbing his eyes and keeping them open a little longer. 

"R-right," he breathed, not looking at either of the boys as if he was simply thinking out loud. "I get t-ta' see Sean at m-m-midnight, d-did ya' know t-that, Jackie?"

Shit. Okay, delusions kicking in was  _definitely_ not a good sign. 

"O-oh, yeah? That's funny, because I think he got 'ere a little early, ain't that right, Spotty?"

Spot bent his head in, kissing the boy's cheek as Race beamed. 

"Y-you...you're 'ere already!" He grinned as far as he could, his eyes lighting up and his trembling hands reaching up to cup Spot's face. "I m-missed ya'."

Spot took one of Race's hands and dragged it over to his lips, kissing the inside of the boy's palm. Jack honestly felt like he was intruding a little, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not now, not ever again.

"I missed ya' too, baby," he mumbled against Race's hand, dipping his head and letting himself be held for once. "B-but it's okay, I's here now, yeah? We's got plenty a' time now."

But Race shook his head. "I...I-I's still so t-t-tired."

Jack lifted himself off his knees to sit on the edge of the bed, accepting as Race reached for one of Jack's hands. He ran his thumb over the now fading bruises that remained on the boy's knuckles from their stay in the refuge. God, it seemed like so long ago now. He honestly thought things couldn't get any worse after that. 

He couldn't have been more wrong. 

"Jackie, you's a g-good big b-brother," he spoke, smiling as Jack quickly brushed away a few tears that fell. Maybe Jack smiled back because he didn't believe it, or maybe he smiled back because just seeing Race's undeniably contagious smile was rubbing off on him, or maybe he smiled because deep, deep down under layers and layers of self-doubt and constantly questioning if he did enough for his kids, he knew they all turned out alright. Some of them, so much more than just 'alright'.

"Thanks, kid," he sighed, reaching up to ruffle Race's hair just a little. "You's a pretty good little brother too."

And that seemed to do it. Pleased with his affirmation, he turned his head back up to Spot and laid as comfortably as he could in his arms. 

"H-hey Sean?" He asked, the tiniest flush of color rising to his pale cheeks. "C-can...can I have a k-kiss g-g-goodnight?"

Spot nodded, biting his lip and shutting his eyes tight as Jack watched tears roll off his cheeks. He looked back down as Race's shaking hands reached up to gently brush away his tears.

" 'Course," he whispered, taking Race's face in his own hands. Even through it all, his eyes were still that beautiful baby blue that made Spot fall in love from the moment he first saw them. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if he never saw them again. His boy and his beautiful, beautiful face. His smile and how it spread across his face when he laughed, creating dimples in his cheeks and crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and...before he could make himself think of all the things he wanted to see right then more than anything, he just kissed him and prayed it would never end. 

"Love you," Race mumbled as they slowly pulled away, a small yawn following as he kept his eyes shut for just a few extra seconds before he opened them again. 

"I love ya' too, sweetheart," he spoke against the boy's lips, pecking them once again as he slipped a hand into Race's hair, wrapping his fingers around the boy's curls. "So, so much."

"Good...g-good, that's...that's r-real nice Spotty," he rambled, sinking into the boy's embrace. "I...I's gonna' take a n-nap, 's that o-okay?"

Silence. Purely terrifying silence. The kind that feels like if someone breaks it, the whole world will shatter into millions of pieces. The kind that, once it starts, it feels like it's never going to end. Even if you don't want it to. And Spot and Jack? God, they never wanted it to end. 

"Y-yeah baby, if you's sure," Spot spoke, his voice shaking with every word. 

"Y-yeah, I...I's sure," he yawned, curling around Spot. "A-actually, no."

Jack chuckled, a watery sniffle to follow it and he wrapped both his hands around one of Race's own. "Take ya' time, kid."

"N-no, I, uh, I w-wanna say s-somethin'," he mumbled. "J-Jack, I...I wanna t-tell ya' s-somethin'."

"Go for it, Racer."

"J-Jackie, don't b-beat ya'self up, p-p-please," he sighed. One look up at the other and Jack Kelly would never forget the look on his face. "I k-know you's g-g-gonna' feel like...like it's ya' f-fault, but I...I d-don't care 'bout w-who s-started tha' strike, I j-jus' hope ya' let ya'self g-g-get over this."

Jack shrugged, leaning his head against the wrapped bundle of their hands. 

"P-please?"

"Sure thing, Tones," Jack smirked, the smile not even coming close to meeting his eyes. 

"Heh," Race chuckled. "Y-ya' 'aint ever c-called me that b-b'fore."

"Ya' like it?" Race smiled and Jack took that as a little victory. 

"Y-yeah...yeah t-tha's...," he trailed off, rubbing his eyes with his free hand before wrapping it around spot's shoulders and burying his face in his neck. "Hey, S-Spotty, t-thanks for n-not soakin' m-m-me the first t-time I k-k-kissed ya'."

Even Jack could laugh a little at that. 

"Me too, babe," he smiled. "H-hey, how's about ya' relax a little, yeah? I know how much ya' love ta' talk, but I don't want ya' hurtin' ya'self, Tony."

Race shrugged, coughing a few times into his palms before he swung his legs off the edge of the bed, grabbing Jack's shoulders for stability as the other two freaked out. 

"Race? Race, kid, c'mon ya' gotta' stop, jus' sit back down n' we's gonna' relax jus' like Conlon was sayin'," Jack spoke, quickly opposing the boy's force and trying to law him back down. 

"I-I's  _fine_ , jus'...jus' let m-me...," Race trailed off, his grip faltering on Jack's shoulders as he let his chin fall against his chest and he hung his head in exhaustion, wheezing breaths filling the stressful silence. Jack let go with one hand, letting Spot catch Race from behind as he reached for the boy's face to lift his gaze. 

Race shrugged himself away from the boys' efforts, sinking his head into his hands as he groaned meekly, a pained whine slipping from his lips as his breaths became labored. 

"Kid, c'mon ya' gotta' sit up, it ain't good for ya', Racer," Jack mumbled, replacing his arm around Race's shoulders and quickly maneuvering him back to lay as flat as he could against Spot's chest. 

Race's incoherent mumbling continued, making his slow, disoriented blinking slightly more worrying. He just looked dizzy.

"J-Jack?" He slurred, not meeting the former's gaze as his eyes fluttered sluggishly. "Jack, Jack, J-Jack, _Jack_."

The almost rhythmical chanting of the boy's dazed rambles shouldn't have meant anything to Jack, but he couldn't help but feel the sick stiffing in his gut that kept pleading for him to do something, to help him, to  _make it stop_.

"Ya' gotta' focus for me, Ant. I can't make it stop if ya' don't try ta' work with me 'ere," Jack spoke, reaching for a glass of water beside the bed. Race shook his head when he saw it. He placed a hand on his own chest, his breathing dry and painful and confusing Jack for a moment before... "No. No, c'mon, kid, I ain't givin' up, ya' can't give up on me, I cant-"

He cried, finally letting the tears that had been brewing in his eyes burst as one sob made him grab for Race's hand. 

"Tony, listen ta' me," Spot whispered softly from behind him. He kissed the underside of Race's jaw gently before continuing. "I know it hurts. I know it's so hard, n' I would take it myself in a heartbeat if I could, but ya' gotta' hold on. I can't lose you, T."

Race inhaled sharply, a small stream of blood trickling out from the corner of his mouth. He looked exhausted. Spot wasn't even sure if he'd understood what he was saying, but he needed to say it. 

"I-I...I c-can't, Sean," he rasped, so quietly Jack didn't even hear more than breath, but Spot sure seemed to know what he said. He kissed Race on the forehead, rubbing circles on the boy's hollow cheeks as he started to slowly rock back and forth. 

"Please," his voice cracked, his pleas falling silent as Race ignored his words and simply laid back against him.

Jack had a million things circling through his head that he wanted more than anything to be able to say. Besides, how do you even begin to pick your last words to someone when there's so much left unsaid? His head was throbbing and his ears were ringing and he couldn't tell if he was even speaking or not, but he needed that boy to know. He needed him to know  _everything_.

And then it ended. Pleas fell on deaf ears and hands reached for limp ones and racing heartbeats met halted ones. His eyes were closed softly and it hit Jack like a ton of bricks as he stared at the boy laid in his friend's arms. They wouldn't open again. His lips were parted so slightly that one look at them felt wrong. Those lips always had a cigar between them and on the off chance that they didn't, they were spouting insults and jokes left and right but...not anymore. He couldn't look at Spot, he didn't want to see his face. He could see the tears falling off his cheeks and onto Race's but, he couldn't look at his face. If he looked at Spot's face, he'd see his own in it. Race didn't know. God, he had so many things left to say and now he lost his chance. 

How Jack had gone almost three years of leading Manhattan without anything like this. He had somehow found a way to keep his entire family of brothers and sisters safe for nearly three years to the point where he almost felt untouchable. It got to the point where he didn't even worry. He dove right into the strike without thinking twice about what could come out of it. It just didn't seem like an option. Never once in the strike did he think of the refuge, or his kids getting hurt, and not once did he think something like...this would ever happen. All throughout their time at the refuge, Jack wouldn't let himself believe anything could get any worse. When the strike rally took a turn for the worse, he thought that was as bad as it could get. When he watched the bulls go after Crutchie, he didn't think it could get any worse. When he immediately got caught up in his own fight, barely holding his own against Snyder's goons, he still thought that was as bad as things could get. Alone in the refuge? Nope, it got worse the moment Race got tossed in there with him. With every passing day in that absolute hell-hole, he told himself that that was the worst of it. It couldn't get worse than that. But it always did. It got worse every single day without fail. 

Now here they were. 

And Spot.

All those years ago when he ran away from his family after his father died, he didn't even think he had a future. He just wanted to get out. To get away from his mother and away from his house full of memories of his dad, and he never expected for some kid just a few years older than him to ask him if he needed a place to stay and actually  _give_ him a home and a job. He thought he was untouchable simply because no one dared to get close enough to him to do it. Until Race. Antonio "Racetrack" Higgins was an asshole with a quick wit, luck too precise for his own good, and probably the most addicting smile Spot had ever seen. One joking insult Spot had tossed his way on Race's first day selling at the Sheepshead and the smile that followed meant Spot was doomed. He never had a chance. In all honesty, he never had a chance against Race. From the moment Jack Kelly brought him over to Brooklyn and around the rest of the city to formally arrange his second-in-command, making sure they all knew who to go to if anything were to happen to Jack. 

They never once planned what they would do if something happened to Race. 

Spot took one look at him as he shook that boy's hand and he decided somewhere deep within his fortress of walls that he didn't want to let go. He decided that day and no matter how hard he tried, it never seemed to go away. He was glad it didn't. God, he wouldn't give that up for all the time in the world. It was selfish, he knew it, but he would rather have a short time than no time if it meant they could be together. He didn't even know what he would do now. He couldn't just go back to Brooklyn like nothing ever happened. For the rest of his life, he'd be carrying that on his shoulders, no matter what. But he had a job to do. 

How were they all even supposed to do that now? Jack had to go out there and tell all of them their brother was gone, Spot had to go back to Brooklyn and pretend "that kid from Manhattan" wasn't the love of his life that he held in his arms as he died. 

Manhattan would have to go out there and clean up the mess of the strike like it wasn't the worst decision they had ever made. Jack would have to go out that door and tell Skip that the lodging house wasn't always like this. That she just lost another brother and it hadn't even been a month since they'd come home. 

Jack had to tell Crutchie the boy who saved his life had just lost his own. 

Jack had to tell Davey their little 'crusade' had its first casualty. 

Jack had to tell Albert his best friend was gone and there was nothing left to do. 

Jack had to tell the whole house that...by the terms of the city's newsies they had to replace him already. 

_Jack had to tell them all that their friend was dead and it was his fault and he was terrified and in pain and Jack didn't do anything to stop it and he lost a kid oh my god he lost a kid._

Manhattan was crumbling to the ground from inside one tiny room. And no one knew but the remaining two of a trio that once ruled the whole world, whether the world knew it or not. They were kings in a world full of helpless subjects, terrified of the ones who did not hesitate to show their power. There was no hesitation when it came to homeless kids trying to keep themselves and their families alive when they got in the way of someone more important. Someone who doesn't know what it's like to find your own family. To pick up your sisters and brothers off the ground all tell them you'll make it through together. To find someone who's willing to put their own life before yours without a moment of hesitation. When someone knows there's no reason to do something for you, but they do it anyway because you're family and family doesn't care about the consequences of sacrifices. 

When hesitation was gone, that was how they found their family. When Jack and Davey didn't hesitate to go on strike on the off chance that their families might not starve to death. When the kids didn't hesitate to jump into the fight the moment the bulls laid a hand on one of their own. When Race didn't hesitate for a second to step in and take Crutchie's place in the refuge because even though he knew he might not have much time, however little he had, Crutchie had less and that was always a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

They didn't know what to do. How could they? It wasn't like they wanted to think about it and they definitely didn't have a plan, but they had to do something. They couldn't sit around because the longer they just sat around, the longer Jack let the guilt eat him alive, and the longer Spot cursed himself for not joining the strike before it was too late.

They were safe to pretend it was all a dream in that little room. As long as they didn't look and kept their heads in their hands and let their own sobs drown out any sounds around them, then they were fine. The moment they stepped out that door, they were not. 

When they stepped out that door, it was hell. They were out, they were vulnerable, and it was  _real_. They couldn't make it real. Jack knew exactly what his boys would say the moment he stepped out that door because they would see exactly what had happened written all over his face and they wouldn't be able to hide it for a second. 

Or maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they'd be just as broken as the two and maybe they would understand. Maybe they would hug him and tell him it was okay when they all knew it wasn't and they wouldn't let that guilt tear him up from the inside out. 

Because their family grew together, slowly but surely, and when they broke, they all broke together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end! i will never write anymore of this and if i do, somebody please stop me
> 
> anyway, i really loved writing this and i hope everyone enjoyed the journey from a quick drabble prompt i asked for that just morphed into this giant monster of a fic
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are what keep me writing! i love you all so much for reading and don't forget to check out my tumblr for earlier postings and other useless posts @tony-higgins!
> 
> xoxo, elle

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all in advance for reading! comments & kudos make my day and if you want to request your own fic like this one, feel free to hmu on tumblr @tony-higgins


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